The Story Of Us
by TheyCalledMePunderful
Summary: They're depressed. Sad, anxious, scared. And they've all done something horrible to themselves. That's why they're in Mingo. Basically a Voltron mental hospital au with Klance, Adashi/Shadam, and some quality angst. Trigger waringin: Cutting, suicide attepmpts, suicidal thoughts, drug use, alcohol use, cursing, abuse, eating disorders, etc.
1. Info

A/N Hey guys! This is a klance and adashi and stuff. Read on but be cautious!

 **Allura: Age 16 1/2; self-harm, anxiety, depression, past suicide attempt, hospitalized by cutting so deep she was taken in an ambulance to the ER; heterosexual. (Female)**

 **Lance: Age 15; self-harm, anxiety, bulimia, past anorexia, depression, suicidal tendencies, ADHD, hospitalized by suicide attempt (did not black out, but told his mother because he was afraid of what he might do to himself); bisexual. (Male)**

 **Keith: Age 16 (turns 17 in a week from hospitalization); self harm, anxiety, severe depression, many suicide attempts, nicotine addiction, opioid addiction, drinks frequently, abused, hospitalized by calling police on foster parents because he thought his foster mother was going to kill him; homosexual. (Male)**

 **Hunk: Age 15; severe anxiety, social anxiety, depression, attempted suicide, homicidal thoughts, suicidal thoughts, paranoia, survivors guilt, hospitalized by attempted suicide; questioning sexuality. (Male)**

 **Pidge: Age 14; anxiety, depression, self-harm; hospitalized because she was afraid she was a danger to herself and others; asexual. (Gender fluid)**

 **Shiro: Age 17; anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, self harm, abused, drug use, alcohol use, hospitalized due to suicide attempt; homosexual. (Male)**

 **There will be Klance and Shadam/Adashi, but not while they are hospitalized. Each of them are not in a good enough place to care about themselves, never mind other people. I understand that in a lot of cases, people are discouraged to keep in contact with other patients they meet in the hospital. I also know that nobody listens.**

 **HUGE TRIGGER WARNING (not gonna put these on each chapter) SELF HARM, DEPRESSION, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, DRUGS**

 **I will add more as I continue writing the story.**

 **Enjoy!**


	2. 1 - Lance

I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, sobbing. Tears roll down my face like waterfalls of pain and sadness. I stare at my hands through tear-blurred vision, and I can't tell if they're shaking or if it's the tears. Why am I like this?

The toilet still has my vomit in it, brought on almost completely by my own self hatred. And the back end of a toothbrush. I've forced the food out of me, so many times. Every meal, snack, drink. Even if I just have one chip. It all has to go.

Sure, not eating got me to be skinny, but how am I supposed to maintain that? Puking. So, at least I'm eating, right? I could be worse.

I rip off my shirt, tears dripping down my cheeks at a slower rate than before. I stand and look in the mirror. My ribs stick out in a hideous way, and my face is sunken. My eyes have bags under them that are big enough to carry groceries. I let out a dry, joyless laugh. What is wrong with me?

I suppose it all started with her. With Nyma. I was so in love with her, with her beauty. She had long, flowing blonde hair and a gorgeous smile. Even her name made me putty. _Nyma_.

When she's approached me and told me that she'd been infatuated with me for so long, it seemed too good to be true. (It was). I had my first kiss with her, under the bright lights of the bowling alley. I had my first time with her, inside my brothers car. Little did I know, I meant nothing.

It was a few days after we'd hooked up in Ivan's car. She'd said to me "I love you, Lance, but you're just so...bad for my reputation,"

I'd asked her what she'd meant, and she'd told me flat out "You're fat! You don't look like the rest of the guys! I'd thought you would be super hot, but I guess not. I can't love you if you look like this."

I'd nodded. And that week, I didn't eat anything. When my mother made me eat during a family dinner that Nyma had attended, I felt so fat and ugly. That was the first time a puked.

Eventually, I started eating again, but I kept on making myself purge every meal I ate. So, instead of gaining a bit of weight and getting into the healthy zone, I stayed a skinny, tall person. And I was content.

What's a bit of suffering if it made Nyma happy? Well, eventually she decided that I wasn't enough. So she left me for Rolo, and I was left with emotional, mental, and physical damage.

So that's why I am how I am.

I brace myself against the counter around the sink, looking at my horrible face in the mirror. _Do it._ My mind whispers to me. _End it, they won't care. If you were really worth it Nyma wouldn't have left you._

I'm going to do it, I decide. I open the mirror about the sink and find the nail polish remover, reading the label and the warnings. _Do not ingest_ , it says. Well, sorry buddy, but that's exactly what I plan on doing.

My cup that I use for rinsing my mouth after puking and brushing my teeth is filled with the nail polish remover, and I take a little lick of it before drinking it all very quickly. My stomach rumbles in protest and I race to the toilet again to puke, tears flicking my eyes as everything in my stomach flies out. It didn't work.

I get up and walk out of my room, downstairs to where my family is sitting and eating dinner together. I sit at the table, feeling guilty. My siblings all finish their dinner, but I'm still picking at it sadly.

"My mouth tastes like nail polish remover," I say all to casually for what's to come.

Mama looks up, "Did you have nail polish remover in your mouth?" She asks.

I nod, "Sí, mama."

"Why?"

It breaks me. Now's when I have to admit it. "To kill myself," I whimper. I can't meet her eyes, but I force myself to look at her face. She looks so sad, so...disappointed.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Mama asks kindly. I'm startled by how calm her voice is, because her eyes portray something pure and raw.

I shrug, because I'm really not sure.

Mama takes a rattling breath and says, "Are you afraid you might do it again?"

This one takes me a second, because why did I tell her? Was it because of that? Or was I just done?

I nod, because I am afraid. I want to go to the hospital, because then I'll know that there really is something wrong with me. Then I'll know why I keep doing this to myself.

Mama gets up and takes both our bowls out to the kitchen, gesturing towards me. "Please put your shoes on, Lance," she says, barely above a whisper.

I sniffle and nod again, going towards the stairs. Ivan is coming down them, and sees me.

"Lance?" He says, concern lacing his voice.

I look at him, wanting to tell him everything and nothing. "I'm going to the hospital. Mama-"

I shake my head and try again, only now Ivan looks even more concerned. "Can you please get me my shoes? I don't think I can walk up the stairs," I whisper, my voice cracking.

Ivan nods and raced up the stairs, footsteps thumping. I hear him open my door and then his footsteps come back towards me, and he stops in front of me. I haven't moved.

"Lance," he says, putting an arm around my shoulder and sitting me on the stairs, "why are you going to the hospital?"

I burst into tears, unable to speak at all. "C-an y-y-you-?"

Ivan looks down at my untied shoes "Do you want me to tie them?" He asks.

I nod and continue to sob into my hands, my shoulders shaking. "P-l-plea-se,"

Ivan tied them just how he knows I like them. After all, he's the one who taught me how to make a bow. He hugs me and kisses the top of my head.

"I love you, Lance," he says into my hair, "come back soon,"

I wrap my arms around him like he's a life raft, keeping me from floating off into a sea of nothingness.

"I love you too," I say.

Mama comes around the corner and sees us, "I've already told the others that we're going to the hospital because you're hurt," she says.

I unlatch myself from Ivan and say another goodbye as Mama walks me out the door. The drive to the ER is uneventful, filled only with the sounds of my sniffles and occasional whimpers.

When we get to the ER, Mama signs me in and about a half an hour later I'm sitting naked, covered only by a papery, cold gown, under thin sheets that aren't doing their job very well. Mama sits in a chair looking sleepy, after all, it's past ten o'clock.

"Mama," I say, "am I going to school tomorrow?"

Mama looks up sadly, "Lance, you aren't going to be going home,"

"What?" I exhale sharply. Nobody told me this!

"You will go home eventually, but the nurses said you'll be moved to a hospital that specializes in mental health. It's residential, but your siblings and I can visit you,"

I nod. Honestly, I've cried so much that I couldn't let a tear out if I wanted to. Dehydration, I guess.

"Can the nurse bring in water?" I ask in a small voice.

Mama looks up, "She already did. You weren't supposed to drink it yet when it arrived but it's for you. They wanted to make sure you weren't going to throw up again. Also, when you have to go to the bathroom you'll have to pee in a cup. They need to - ah - test it."

"Okay," I say, taking the cup she hands me. It's not a normal cup, it has a handle and a straw. Probably for people with actual problems. My head pounds and I can still sort of taste the nail polish remover. Maybe the water will help with the headache.

Being without underwear makes me feel like a little baby, and it's odd. It makes me want to use the bathroom and cry a lot and just sleep. But every time I close my eyes I see Mama and Ivan with tears in their eyes.

The nurse walks back in, she was using the bathroom, and waved and smiles at me. The blood tests are done, as well as when they attached a bunch of stuff to my chest and sides to monitor my heart rate. The therapist had already come in and interviewed me about why I did what I did.

I look at the nurse, I don't remember her name. I know she told us when she came in. "I have to pee," I say.

She nods. "Here," she says, handing me a cup, "pee into this, only to the blue line. Then you can head back out and give it to me."

As I stand up, the nurse wraps another papery hospital gown around me, covering up my exposed butt. I smile gratefully at her. She leads me down the hallway a couple doors, to the bathroom. I'm not allowed to go to the bathroom alone, so she steps in with me and turns her back, facing the corner.

I hold the cup in a shaky hand, almost dropping it into the toilet. I sigh, because I can't do this by myself like I want to. "C-can you hold the cup for me?" I ask quietly. My face flushes and I stare at the front of my gown, wishing I had asked for papery pants and a this shirt.

Now I have to expose my thighs and my...junk...to this random lady. She's nice, but that doesn't mean I want her looking at me while I pee.

"Sure," she says, walking over and holding the cup steady. She puts a hand up near her eyes, shielding me from her view.

I pee into the cup, until she pulls it away. Then I go in the actual toilet. When I'm done, I flush the toilet and wash my hands. Luckily, I don't have to go through he awkwardness of handing her a steamy, pee filled cup and having her thank me, because she already has the cup. She walks me to my room and slips out again to drop off my sample before sitting down again.

My bed is uncomfortably high, made for sitting, but I don't want to be a bother. The nurse, who is apparently named Sydney (I heard one of the doctors call out to her), hooks me back up to the beeping machine. I smile at her softly, and she smiles back.

"Would you like me to turn off the lights?" Sydney asks.

I nod, feeling a little better once I see my sleeping mother in the plastic chair. I'm more trouble than I'm worth. The room goes dark, save for all the equipment that's glowing.

I relax backwards into my hospital bed, and Sydney lowers it. I try and curl up minimally, as not to block any of my wires from getting information to the machines. Don't want to make them think I'm flatlining.

My eyes flutter shut, and I fall into a restless sleep.

I wake to the lights being turned on. "Oh, sorry," says a new nurse. This one is ridiculously hot. I'm glad I didn't have him holding my cup last night, because I probably would have had some...dreams...last night.

"Hi," I say, "you're not Sydney?"

He laughs. "No, I'm not," he agrees. "My name's Andrew,"

"Lance,"

"Well, Lance, you're going to be riding in an ambulance today. Cool, huh? I'm here to prep you. You'll be admitted to Mingo Hospital, it's about thirty minutes away. I'm also going to ride in the back with you. Your mother will be following in her car."

I nod, trying to process that I'm going to be in an ambulance. "Can I pick the music?"

Andrew laughs, "sure. Anything you want to be brought will be taken by your mom,"

I smile, or at least try to. It probably looks like a grimace to be honest. Andrew has me sit up and he unhooks me from all the equipment and stuff. Then, the ambulance drivers come.

I'm hoisted into the stretcher and latched into the ambulance, talking to Andrew the whole time. "Can we listen to Fergalicious?" I ask for some I reason.

Andrew laughs again, pulling out his phone and turning it on. The song starts and I mouth along to the words, paying no attention to Andrew at all. Thirty minutes goes by fast when you're listening to classics.

When we arrive, I'm rolled into the building through the ambulance entrance, looking all around at the buildings and the windows, wondering which room is mine.

"You won't be going to the eating disorders wing," says a lady who's showing us around, "that's not what you've been admitted for. However, you will be having a nurse who will accompany you to the bathroom to ensure you don't make yourself vomit. And you will have a nurse who will make sure you're getting enough food to eat each day. If your problems persist, and I mean the eating disorders, then you may be moved to the eating disorder wing."

I nod. Hopefully I won't have to go to the bathroom very often. "If I'm doing fine can I go to the bathroom alone?" I ask.

The lady smiles. "No," she says, "it's mandatory until you're discharged. However, if you've been without an episode or any urges, and you're making good progress in your treatment, we may allow you to bring another patient, who shares the same sex and gender identity, to stand inside the bathroom and have the nurse right outside the door."

"Oh," I think that would be worse, because at least the nurse wouldn't say anything. A patient on the other hand...

The lady keeps on talking, more to my mother than to me, and we get taken into an office. There they take my weight (I close my eyes and try not to cry when they see how fat I am) and ask my mother about me.

Mostly things like _when is his birthday?_ and _does he have any allergies to medicine or foods?_ So it's all pretty bland.

I take a moment to let the events all catch up to me. It's all a blur, feeling hopelessness while bathed in white-yellow lights, to eating dinner in the natural sunset, to crying into Ivan's shoulder while bathed in yellow-gold lights filtering in from the kitchen. From there, to the industrial, bright white lights of the emergency room, to the tiny light in the ambulance, to now. Whatever I should call the lights in this room.

Lamp light?

Whatever.

I'm still trying to figure how I went from point A to point B to point B 1/2 to point C. (Home, ER, ambulance, here) when the lady says for me to say goodbye to my mother and leads me to an elevator. I tap my fingers against my thighs through my dresses, nervous and excited in equal amounts.

My mind races with questions. Who will I be rooming with? Will here be a tv? Are there bathrooms in the rooms? Can I use them? Is there going to be a nurse to make sure I don't use them? What if I need to pee in the middle of the night? Will my roommate be mad at me if he can't use the bathroom because of me? What happens if I get punched? Do I have to go to a different hospital? What are the people here like? Will they hate me if I'm bi? Are they allowed to hate me? Will we have to do couples therapy if we fight? Is there group therapy? When do I get to see my mom again?

That last question plays over and over again, as I think about what I said to her. She'd hugged me and kissed my head and said

"I love you, Lance,"

And then I said it back.

" _Te amo_ , Mama,"

But there's this one voice in my head, a cruel voice devoid of all kindness that says to me:

 _ **If you really love her, why did you try to leave?**_

And the truth is, I don't know why I tried. I mean I know I wanted to die, but I don't know why I wanted to die, specifically.

I don't know.

And that terrifies me.


	3. 2 - Shiro

I'm getting a new roommate today, or at least, that's what Marissa told me. She's the kindest nurse here and she really...understands what we're going through. She let it spill during group therapy one day when somebody snapped at her and told her shoulder could never understand because she'd never been a mental patient before. Turns out, she had.

She never told us the reason, only that she was chronically depressed after a teenage pregnancy, but nobody's ever given her shit after that, not even the new people.

Speaking of new people, I wonder who my new roommate is. Apparently he'll be coming within the hour, so I'm excited to meet him. Hopefully he won't be too stuck up and act like he's above everyone else. I can't stand people like that.

Of course, I won't just write him off immediately after he does one little thing. He's just been admitted to a mental hospital! No, he deserves a few chances to get used to the whole sharing your problems thing. He deserves a chance to adjust and to get to know the people around him. I've been in this place for three and a half weeks, four this Saturday, and that means I need to help this kid out. Obviously, he's younger than me. I'm seventeen, so most people are. I just hope he's not like, twelve. That's impossible, since he'd be in the child wing if that were true. But like, thirteen. That's would suck to see someone so young in so much pain.

I relax backwards into my pillows. Only two of them, since one of them is basically just sleeping on the mattress. My parents brought in a blanket, which has no loose strings, nothing hanging off, and absolutely _no decorations_. But it's warm. It's also attached to my bed as to keep my from hanging myself with it. Not that I would do it, but my new roommate might. So we've got to be careful.

The door opens and Marissa steps in, propping the door open with her foot.

"Takashi," she says, her voice soft, "your roommate is getting dressed right now. He came from the hospital. And he's...pretty bad right now. I'm not authorized to tell you what's up with him, but he isn't allowed to use the bathroom alone. Make sure to...respect his wishes, okay? And come get me when he needs to go to the bathroom, if he tells you. And, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to lock up your bathroom too. We just...don't want him getting hurt. You get that, right? If he wants to take a shower, come get me too. We'll use the Quiet Room bathroom for that so I can sit on the toilet while he showers. It sucks I know, but just...please be courteous. I know you can, but give him a lot of time. Also," she fumbles around her waist and for a second, "here. It's a buzzer. It will immediately notify me and the front desk of this unit when you press it. Press is it you or your roommate is having trouble. Okay? Or if the bathroom needs to be opened,"

I nod, trying to commit all of those things to memory. I wonder what's wrong with my roommate, if there's so many precautions. I'm expecting a somebody with probably anger management problems, so we're trying to keep our bathroom intact, or something. I sit up on my bed and look at my blanket, waiting for my new roommate to come in.

After a couple minutes, there's a soft knock at the door, so soft I almost don't hear it. I hear Marissa's comforting voice, the one she uses to get reluctant patients to do things, and then another series of three knocks, only a little bit louder.

"Come in!" I say, raising my voice so they can hear me on the other side of the door.

A frail voice comes from behind the doors, and I can't even pick out if it's a high or low voice, or if it's generally loud or soft. "I-I don-I don't think I c-an,"

I sigh and walk over to the door, already a bit annoyed and ready to tell Marissa so once my roommate opens the door and goes to his bed.

As soon as I see him, though, I don't want to.

He's got brown skin, that much is obvious, but it's pale, too pale to be healthy, and even has a little bit of a yellowish tint to it. His eyes are sunken into his face and his lips are dry and chapped, his eyes red and puffy from what seems to be a lot of crying. I move aside to allow the poor skeletal boy into the room.

He steps carefully, not speaking but looking up at me cautiously, almost nervous. He sits down on his bed, which is bland with white sheets folded up at the edge of the bed. I didn't notice before, but he's got like...six extra blankets in his bundle. What's even happening with him?

Marissa says something to him and he mumbles a response, she must be satisfied because she leaves the room. I want to shout after her _No! Please don't leave! I don't know how to talk to this kid!_ But I don't. I don't want to be rude.

"Hi," I say, lifting a hand and waving. I don't want to touch him without his permission. I don't know what he's gone through. "I'm Takashi Shirogane. You can call me Shiro,"

The boy looks up, almost startled, like he expected me to be rude. "Lance," is all he says. But it's enough.

"Lance," I say, "is that your only outfit?"

Lance nods and sits on his bed, fiddling with the edge of one of his blankets. He won't meet my eyes, which is not too uncommon in this place, especially with people who first come in.

"Well you can borrow some of my stuff until you get some more outfits. I have lots of sweatshirts and sweatpants and socks. They'll probably be really comfy since I'm bigger than you. Oh! And for pajamas I have t-shirts and stuff. Of course, you don't have to use them I you don't want to. Just putting it out there."

Lance has wide eyes as he looks down at himself, at his old baggy long sleeved shirt that has definitely seen better days, some pants that are pretty obviously from the hospital itself (they're from the actual hospital part and not the inpatient mental wing) and made of that cold, dry material that is just generally uncomfortable on your legs.

He looks back up at me and his eyes fill with tears. "Can I? Please? I don't-" he sniffles and starts again. "I don't want to be stuck in these for the next two days,"

I smile kindly at him and find my biggest, comfiest, softest hoodie I have and my smallest pair of sweatpants. It occurs to me that he might not be wearing any underwear, if he just came from the hospital, but I honestly don't care. Those pants barely fit anyway.

Lance takes them and smiles gratefully, before looking back down. "I don't have any, you know," he says.

I tilt my head to the side and give him what I hope looks like a supportive smile. "Its okay. I'm not going to give you mine, but you'll be okay for a couple days. I mean, if you really think you need them, I could give you a pair...but I think the only ones I have that will fit you are a pair of lace panties. Don't ask me why I have them, it's a long story. I can tell you later. I honestly think you'll feel better off with none,"

Lance nods, a small smile making its way onto his face at the lace panties comment. "Could you maybe...turn away?"

"I'm going to hold up a sheet so I can't see you, but I'll also hide you from view if anyone opens the door. Sound good?"

Lance nods gratefully. I get the feeling he's a lot more talkative than this, but he's broken. Just like the rest of us.

I pick up one of his sheets and he goes into a corner near the bathroom. I hear rustling as he removes his weird, stupid hospital pants and puts on my sweatpants, then I hear his breath shudder as he takes off his shirt and puts mine on.

He steps out from behind the curtain looking significantly less afraid of me and his surroundings. The enormous black hoodie that goes down to his knees and hangs off of his shoulders makes him looks small, but I can tell that exactly how he wants it. He wants to be able to hide and pretend that he's somewhere else. And I'm so glad that I can give that to him, even if it's not the healthiest coping skill.

"You like it?" I half-laugh, half-ask.

Lance nods gratefully and a smile splits his face. "I love it,"

"Do you want help making your bed?" I offer.

Lance shrugs sure and walks over to his mound of blankets, picking them up but almost dropping them, as if they're too heavy. He looks at me, and I quickly look away so I don't embarrass him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders slump in relief and I stand up on his bed, getting the thin sheet laid out over his crusty-ass mattress.

Okay, so it's not actually crusty. But it's like a piece of tarp stuffed with minimal stuffing. It sucks. So I give him the sheet to lie on and tuck it under the mattress so it doesn't come out. Then, we both lay a sheet out on top of it. After that, we pile on the blankets. Apparently, there wasn't six. There's nine of them.

Nine.

Fucking.

Blankets.

Okay, so I really want to know what exactly happened to Lance to make him need this many blankets, have the bathroom locked, be so scared of me, be a skeleton, and have a buzzer thingy on hand in our room. Like, what? But I don't want to make him uncomfortable so I keep my mouth shut. He deserves to have some momentary peace before he ends up in his first chaotic meal with us. It's coming up in about an hour and a half.

That hour and a half is usually spent in group time, but apparently there was an emergency admission from their Post Hospitalization Program because a kid had a hallucination and somebody got hurt. Allegedly. So we don't have any group today while they deal with patching this kid up and re-admitting him into inpatient.

Lance sits on his newly made bed and stretches out, his feet stick out from the bottoms of his sweatpants - yeah, he can have them - as he crosses his legs.

"Do you want some socks? I think I have fuzzy ones from the Barnes & Noble home section line thing. They're super comfy. Plus, you sort of seem like a cold person," I say.

Lance looks up, something in his eyes that tells me I'm about to find something out. "Well, I'm not always just straight up cold. But I don't have any fat in me so I can't warm myself up like that. That's why I have fifteen billion blankets. And why I kept on shivering."

I smile at him and toss him the socks, they're black with white toes and heels and fur. I definitely see what Marissa was talking about with the whole 'be careful with him,' thing, but I also think she was exaggerating a little bit. He seems..not exactly comfortable. He seems like the kind of person who came here of his own free will. Not somebody who was fought into the ambulance. Like somebody who wasn't planning on going here, but definitely wasn't opposed to the idea because he knew he needed help. Those are the best kinds of people.

For the next hour and a half, Lance takes a nap. He seems super tired, so I promise to wake him up when Marissa comes to get us. I don't think he knows that we're about to go eat, or that he has to stay upstairs while everyone else goes down. He's up for the first twenty four hours (no going outside, no going to the computer lab, art, cafeteria) but by dinner tomorrow, he'll be allowed to come with me and I can tell him how it works.

Marissa opens the door after what seems like no time at all (I probably fell asleep) and I tap Lance on the shoulder, and he sits up quickly, still with bags under his eyes. Marissa ushers me out the door so I'm not late to dinner (it's Taco Tuesday and the hospital tacos are weirdly good).

As the elevator takes me and a group of people down to the cafeteria, I wonder how it's going for Lance. I wonder why exactly he's in here, along with the same questions as before. Then, suddenly it all clicks.

The bathroom, the skinnyness, the yellowed skin, the fragility.

Lance has an eating disorder.

 **Soooo...Shiro figures it out! I wasn't really sure how to end this, but Shiro isn't going to be confronting poor Lance about this. Also, next chapter has everyone's favorite emo hippo! Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to point out any errors, grammatical or anything else, in my story. Bye!**


	4. 3 - Keith

**SO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS IN CODE I'M SORRY HERE'S THE GOOD VERSION MY DUDES.**

Getting out of bed is always a hassle. I've watched a billion videos on how to do it, and they all say the same thing: have something to wake up for. And they don't mean something like your alarm, either. They mean that you have to be excited for something in your day. Something that isn't going back to sleep.  
So, I'm literally never going to wake up easily.

My back hurts from last night, my most recent beating, and one look at my arms and legs tells me I'm going to be wearing long sleeves today. They're _covered_ in bruises and cuts. Not to mention, I'll have to take a shower to get the dried blood off my chest, back, and arms. I shiver at the thought of hot water getting into those cuts, trying to think of some alternative. I don't find one.

I stretch, feeling a sharp pain in my everything, and quickly hobble to the bathroom. One benefit of living with these abusive assholes who call themselves my foster parents: en suite bathroom. So at least they don't have to see what I've done to myself.

Not that I necessarily care about what they see, since I hate them. They'll just beat me harder if they find out. I turn on the shower.

After peeling off my underwear, I step gingerly into the hot water, wincing as it hits my bruised skin. I practice standing straight up and hiding my grimace as I do so. Honestly, what isn't a mask?

Then it's time for my arms, I decide to suck it up and shove them both directly into the stream of boiling hot water. It probably hurts more than it has to, but I don't care anymore. I turn the water off.

Once I get dressed, I walk out of the bathroom and begin towards the stairwell. A door opens, I vaguely register that, but then I run straight into a body. A body that belongs to Shelby (abusive foster mom, part time bartender, full time bitch). My face hits the side of her boobs directly. I look up to see her seething.

"You..." she says through clenched teeth, "you little _pervert_! Is this what those kids are teaching you at school? I should pull you out and beat you senseless. You dare _touch_ me?" Shelby continues on with spouting curses and insults, but my body has already partially numbed in preparation for what's to come.

At some point during his wife's rant, Carl came out and now he's standing in front of me, listening to the absolute bullshit that Shelby is spitting from her vile mouth. He looks at me with a new look in his eyes, a look that strikes fear into my very being. Wordlessly, he speedwalks across the floor and picks me up by the collar.

"Don't you _ever_ ," He seethes, shaking me and holding me over the banister, "touch. Her. _Again._ "

And with that, Carl flings me over the railing and onto the couches below. I land on the top, sliding down to the actual seat of the couch. Right next to the phone. I dial up 911, but I don't say anything or tell Shelby and Carl. Until they come down the stairs, that is.

They kick me until I can barely breathe, and, in my last minutes of pure, animal terror, I hit the call button. The phone takes its time ringing, giving Shelby enough time to kick me in the crotch with her pointy heels with all her might. I curl in on myself, and begin crying.

Now I'm not the type of person who cries easily. Only when I'm really scared, or really hurt. I don't know if I cry when I'm happy. I haven't been happy in a long time. This time...

This time it's been pent up for so long. So much sadness and anger and just general bad feelings. I sob into my hands, and I'm still crying heavily when someone picks up the phone.

" _911, what's your emergency?"_ I hear coming from the phone.

"I-AHH-I'm hurt, I think," I say into the receiver. He second I speak, Shelby and Carl freeze. Carl grabs a bottle from the counter and slams it onto my head. It shatters, and knocks me out.

Whatever happens after I wake up is a blur of being spoken to, mumbling, and being rushed to the hospital. I'm shaking like crazy, and the nurse has difficulty hooking me up to all the stuff.

My ears ring, my vision blurring around the edges and, when I turn, my head pulsates pain and my vision is hidden by black spots. The nurses and doctors are talking to each other, quietly. Why they even bother with that, I don't know. It's not like I even understand enough. Every sound is garbled, like it's passing though a bubble to get to me. This includes the beeping.

I curl up into myself. Hopefully they send me away somewhere. I don't care where, I just don't want to be here.

A nurse appears at my side, pushing a straw to my lips and speaking softly. I manage to make out something like "Oo you own hair oo a?"

I shift a little bit. "Wh-wha-t?"

"Do you know where you are?" She repeats, patient smile on her face.

I try and think of hospitals in my area, but I can't. "The...hos-pit-al?"

She looks at me. "Mingo, to be exact. You'll be admitted to our inpatient program shortly, once you've regained consciousness and we've gotten you washed up,"

I shiver and nod. My everything hurts from the fall off the second story. "Can I sleep now?"

The nurse nods. "Of course. I'll wake you up when it's time for us to transfer you over. Right now, we're trying to find a room. There's probably going to be two boys rooming with you, okay?"

I'm sure she elaborates, but I'm already sleeping.

After some time, I'm woken up by a different nurse, this one with brown and caramel streaked hair that's wavy and goes down just past her shoulders. "I'm Marissa," she says.

"Keith," I mumble.

Marissa gently urges me to sit up, her hand hovering near my back and sort of...guiding me. But not touching me. That's good, because I don't think I can handle somebody touching me right now.

I get up, and after gaining be balance, Marissa leads me to an elevator and we go up. The floor we land on is pretty nice, sort of a cross between a hospital and a boarding school. I'm lead to one of the rooms in a hallway, that's kind of far from the main desk. I shuffle along behind her in my grippy hospital socks and my hospital gown. I have on hospital pants under it. They make a rustling sound as my legs rub together when I walk.

Marissa stops at the door at the very end of the hall, looking at my hands before knocking softly. The door opens and I see a frail, tall boy with brown hair and sad eyes.

He's wearing an enormous sweatshirt that looks like it was made to fit the Hulk, and a pair of sweatpants stick out from beneath it. His eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and his hand - the one on the door - is only skin and bone. His legs shake as he stands there. Marissa ushers me into the room, the boy stepping aside to let me in.

Marissa says, "The bathroom door is to remained locked at all times. Takashi has a buzzer in case anyone needs to use it, and it will notify me and the front desk. Lance, Takashi, this is Keith. Keith, the one with the white tuft is Takashi, or I guess he goes by Shiro, and this tall guy is Lance. I expect you all to get along very well,"

With that, she sends all three of us supportive smiles and walks out, leaving the door just a little bit open. You can't even see the hallway. I look at the two boys, Lance has gone to sit down, and Shiro is really buff. Like, Lance has to be wearing one of his sweatshirts.

After a few moments of silence, Shiro speaks up "So, Keith. I see you only have one blanket,"

I look at the bare bed, tucked into the corner. There's some sheets and a thin blanket. "...Yeah?"

Lance looks at me, "I have nine of them," he says, flustered.

Shiro chuckles. "Lance is basically a human ice cube," he says.

Lance nods softly and lies on his bed, curling his knees into his sweatshirt. Already he seems like the type of person to go with the flow. And the type of person who has a shit ton of baggage.

I begin making my bed, looking at the bathroom door. "Why can't we open it?" I wonder aloud.

Lance inhales sharply, and out of the corner of my eye I see him tense. "Well, you see, what happened is...I-"

He stops, shaking violently and beginning to cry. Shiro mumbles something and there's a buzzing sound, before footsteps sound outside the room and Marissa enters, taking in the sight.

I wonder how this must look: me, halfway through making my bed but staring at Lance open-mouthed; Shiro, frantic and jittery, but trying to keep his cool; and Lance, having an anxiety attack on his bed, curled in on himself.

"Lance," Marissa says softly, kneeling in front of his bed, "it's okay, shh. What happened?"

I speak up: "It's my fault. I asked why we couldn't use the bathroom and then he tried to answer and now he's...a mess,"

Lance looks up, and we can all see his eyes. " _Por que_?" He whispers.

I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound very good.

So it's been less than forty-eight hours and I already gave a kid a meltdown.

What's next?

 **Short chapter here. I kind of hit a roadblock in writing from Keith's point of view. I know how I want him to sound and act, but he's really broken and shy right now in the story, so I don't want to shove him into a role that he isn't ready for. Comment on anything you liked (or hated) and feel free to point out anything wrong! :) And once again, sorry about the code.**


	5. 4 - Shiro

**It's Shiro again. I'm going to introduce someone (they're canon don't worry) and finish up Lance's anxiety attack from Shiro's POV and then next chapter we'll have someone new!**

Watching Lance is horrible, but I can't look away. I think it's because I feel like looking away would mean taking away the moral support I'm sending his way. Eventually, when Marissa sits next to him in the bed and hides him from view, I look down at my hands. I feel part of my bed go down and look up.

"Hey," says Keith, "I'm really sorry about this. I was just wondering why we couldn't use the bathroom. I didn't mean-" he trails off, looking a Lance (who I guess is in his line of sight because of where he's sitting).

I nod. I want to put my arm around his shoulders, but I can see that he has bruises and cuts in his neck and his wrists, and bandages on his back through the hospital gown.

"I think I figured out why, but I'm not going to tell you. It's not mine to tell," I respond, tapping my fingers on my thigh.

"G-g-uy-s," Lance says from his bed. Marissa has one of his hands in hers and is giving him a supportive, cautious smile.

"Yes, Lance?" I say.

"I-can-tell-l-l y-ou wh-wh-w-hy," he manages to get out.

Keith looks up at him, "Lance," he says, "you don't have to. I'm not mad or anything I was just wondering. I didn't mean to make you cry!" He whimpers. I'm

Lance shakes his head, "I h-have an e-eat-ing dis-ord-er," He says.

Keith and I listen, trying to commit it to memory.

Marissa cuts in. "Can I tell them?" Lance nods. "Lance suffers from bulimia and anorexia, along with other things. We want to keep him safe and that means having the bathroom door closed and locked at all times to avoid any urges or episodes. So, Keith, the answer to your question would be: to keep Lance safe,"

Keith, from right next to me, bursts into tears out of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I didn't know. I just-" he breaks off into sobs. "I just wanted-" more sobs shake his body.

Lance stretches out his legs and shakily walks over to to Keith, stopping in front of him. I stand up and walk over to watch near Marissa. She looks at me and then back to the two boys who are now both sitting on my bed.

Lance mumbles " _¿Puedo abrazarte?_ "

Keith looks at him in question before Lance says something else and Keith nods. Lance pulls him into a tender hug, and Keith tenses before relaxing into the taller boy's arms. Keith closes his eyes and runs his hand down Lance's arm softly.

After a few moments of the two of them hugging, Marissa speaks up. "I really hate to do this to you guys, but it's lunch time. Can you guys make it out into the lounge? But not you, Shiro. You're actually going to the cafeteria,"

Keith and Lance walk out, both on shaky feet and I follow, leaving Marissa to walk out of the doorway last. Lance and Keith keep walking to the lounge, Lance is leading because Keith hasn't even been out of our room yet. I sigh and walk into the elevator.

When I arrive in the cafeteria, I get my food. Lunch today is a burger, optional cheese, and a side of fruit. I sit down with Pidge at our usual table. One look at Pidge's wrist shows me that he's going by he/him today. Or at least, right now. I'm not really sure how being genderfluid works.

Right next to our table, is the door. Outside of it is a water fountain and a hand sanitizer dispenser. I rest my cheek in my hand before Pidge is snapping in my face.

"-ro. Shiro. Are you okay?" He asks.

I look at him, he has concern in his eyes. "I'm fine. Just a little worried about my new roommates,"

Pidge looks confused. "Roommates? Plural? I thought it was just Lance?"

I look at him, "There's two now. Remember? I complained about having to move rooms,"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," he says.

I chuckle and take a bite of my burger. For hospital food, it's pretty good. "Yeah. This new guy is named Keith. Seems like a nice dude. Accidentally set Lance off though, I had to use our buzzer. I think that he and Lance get along pretty well. They hugged. Oh, and I was right. Lance does have and eating disorder,"

Pidge looks at me, his eyebrows raised, "Is that your superpower or something? Catching on to other people's problems?"

I shrug. He's speaking from experience (I figured out his hairband on the wrist technique of showing whether he was a dude, a dudette, or neither). I figured out what was wrong with Lance, I figured out what was wrong with a bunch of my other roommates. I guess it is just something about me. Apparently, the only person I can't figure it is myself.

"So how's Adam?" Pidge asks. Adam is my boyfriend since freshman year. I love him, but I tried to leave him and that makes me feel guilty beyond reason.

"He's good," I say, probably getting a loving look in my eyes, "he called me, said he's going to come visit me. Saturday, my birthday? I'm really excited. I haven't seen him for weeks!"

I'm allowed to have Adam over on my birthday, because of some special strings I pulled. Or, Marissa pulled. It involves every single patient and nurse signing a slip saying they're okay with Adam coming to visit - so far, we only need Lance and Keith to sign. Then, we can't be too affectionate in the lounge, only in my room. Even then, we can't go beyond some minor kissing. And the door stays open.

My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning seventeen and I'm sooo excited. Again, boyfriend. He's nineteen, and he's also excited to come see me. He's going to call me and the two of us are going to discuss the whole thing in detail, then go over in with Marissa over the phone on the front desk. I've never been so happy. I hope nothing happens to make my day go bad.

"Lance and Keith still have to sign though, right? Pidge asks.

I nod, "Yeah, I hope they do. I have to ask them tonight. I feel bad, because Keith just got here today, and Lance got here yesterday."

Pidge shrugs, "Lance seems like a cool guy, from what you've told me and what I've seen in group. And Keith seems like the kind of guy who cares more about other people than himself. I'm sure that if you explain it he's going to agree," he says.

I nod, finishing my burger and taking a sip of water before eating some fruit. "Do you think Adam will break up with me? I mean, he's amazing and I love him, but...I'm sort of a burden? And I don't want to hold him back,"

Pidge sighs. "Adam calls you every day. Also, he in college and he's driving _six hours_. By himself. Just to visit you for an hour. But yeah, he's obviously doing that just to hurt you because you're a burden. He loves you, Shiro. He really, truly does,"

I sigh and stab a piece of watermelon over and over. Once it's been turned to mush, I feel much better. "You're right. I love him, and I have nothing to worry about. Adam loves me too,"

The nurses then say lunch is over, and we go back upstairs. I head to my room to look at my favorite thing in the world: a photobook of me and Adam over the years. When I get there, Keith is sitting at his desk, or rather on it, jiggling his foot. Lance is sprawled out on his bed, asleep.

"Hey," I say. Lance apparently is not asleep, because he sits up and responds to me.

"Hey, Shiro,"

I smile. No time like the present. "So, I have this boyfriend. His name is Adam. And tomorrow I'm turning seventeen. The nurses said that if everyone signs a slip saying he can come over, he can visit me on my birthday. Now, I know you guys just got here and might not want anyone knowing where you are, and I understand that. If you decide not to sign, Adam will stay home and I can see him when I discharge, but I really want to see him. So...just think about it and tell Marissa if you are okay with him coming,"

Lance sits up, "You're gay?"

I nod, hoping he's okay with it. "I'm bi," he says.

Keith looks up, "I'm gay too," and looks back down.

"And I'm going to sign. Adam sounds cool," Lance says.

Keith sighs. "Me too, I guess. But...please don't kiss in front of me? It's kind of...triggering,"

I nod and walk out of the room to go find Marissa. After excitedly telling her what I found out, she walks into the room and has them sign. They do.

Seventeen, and I'm so excited.

I can't wait to see Adam.

 **Like is said, this will have Adashi. I was originally going to have a texting sequence after everybody discharged (kind of Shiro just saying he has a crush) but I thought that having him in a relationship from the start would add more variety to the couples I'm planning on having. We have Klance happening after they leave and Adashi from the start. As usual, feel free to comment anything you liked or didn't like about this chapter! Next chapter we get some Lance meeting Pidge and we have a new patient! Bye lovelies! 3**


	6. 5 - Allura

Wow this story is fun to right. This chapter is happening while Shiro's last chapter is happening. This is like Lance and Keith's chapters in the way that it's how Allura ends up in the hospital and her meeting her roommate. Also, question: do y'all want any Adashi phone calls? Adam will be in Shiro's birthday chapter, but do you guys want to read about them outside of that? It'd probably have some crying and just a lot of supportive Adam. If you guys don't care I'll probably put it in but if anybody is just...completely against it make sure to let me know. Onward!

 _My fault_. It seems like that's all my brain can say. I'm sitting on my light blue and white duvet and just...thinking. My uncle will be getting home in about forty-five minutes, so if I'm going to do anything without him seeing I'll have to do it now.

Uncle Corgan is by no means a strict man. And he doesn't get mad when I cut or burn or scratch. He just gets a bit frustrated. I know he doesn't let it show because he loves me, but sometimes he'll call up my dead father's old phone and just...talk and cry to him. And sometimes I can hear him.

I lie back, sinking into the pillows, just as I sink into my emotions. My breath is uneven and frantic, but my mind is moving like molasses. For some reason, I can't seem to talk myself out of this.

 _Do it_  
 _Why_  
 _Because you deserve it_  
 _If it weren't for you_  
 _Your parents would still be alive_

Ah yes. This painful cycle. The cycle of "they would want me to be happy" to "you deserve to hurt for them" and back again.

I fling my legs over my bed and walk to the bathroom. On top of the toilet is a framed picture or me with my parents. I'm about three, sitting on my dad's shoulders with a flower crown in my hair.

I sniffle, tears beginning to overflow from my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whisper brokenly, tracing the picture with my fingertips. Then, I take the picture and gently set it facedown.

I turn to the mirror, suddenly filled with rage at myself. _I_ turned my family into a broken mess. _I_ did that. Before I know what I'm doing entirely, I slam my fist into the mirror, shards breaking off. I pick one up and go to work on my wrist.

I start with light cuts, like I normally do, but soon I realize that I'm not going deep. I focus on the widest cut and press, hissing as pain erupts from my arm. I press more, then harshly he slowly pull the shard down my arm towards my elbow. I hear the door open, and I jump. I slam the shard down harder, deeper into my arm.

"Allura?" Coran's voice sounds from downstairs.

I open my mouth to respond, but my vision begins to get black spots at the edges. I slam my fist on the floor as I fall over. And the bathroom door flies open just as I black out.

When I wake up, I'm in a bed. Not a hospital stretcher, but not a bed I recognize. A tall girl is just leaving the room. I sit up, taking in my surroundings.

Across from me, there's another bed with a desk and to my right there's a window. To my left, a desk. The door the tall girl left out of is near her bed, and there's a door to what is probably the bathroom in on my wall. The wall my desk is against is painted light blue.

I'd like to go back to sleep, but there doesn't seem anything stopping me from getting up and wandering around. No straps or anything. So that's what I'm doing.

I kick off my covers and get up, walking to the door. I open it, finding a bathroom. I cross the room and open the other door and find a hallway.

I look up at a lady who sits at a desk.

"Where am I?" I ask.

The lady looks up, "Mingo Hospital,"

Really short chapter, and not that good. Sorry guys. Next chapter has som gay fluff on Shiro's 17th birthday in the hospital! Allura _will_ have a longer chapter in the future, but I was just sooo excited to write Adashi! Sorry & comment anything wrong with this chapter! Bye! (Also I made a Coran look)

;{ )


	7. 6 - Shiro (BIRTHDAY CHAPTER)

Today is the day. I'm turning seventeen. But to be honest, I couldn't care less. Today's the day I finally get to see Adam. And I've never felt happier.

I go throughout my day as usual, buzzing when necessary and sitting through a therapy session in a daze. In what seems like both years and seconds, it's time.

After dinner, I sprint to the elevator and wait for it to take me up before I sprint out, stopping at the front desk, where Marissa is sitting.

"Takashi," she chuckles, "what are you _doing_?"

I smile hugely, "Adam! Wait, but not like that. I'm _seeing_ him today. You know, because it's my birthday,"

Marissa shakes her head and says "Well, at least sit down. Can you go check on Keith? He's taking a nap,"

I nod happily and skip down the hallway to my room, and I think I might even hear the elevator open to let the other kids in (I left them behind). I'm our room, Keith is sitting up groggily and trying to get out of bed with the help of a very weak Lance. I quickly help them and walk out the door with them.

That's when it happens.

It's like in slow motion, Adam turning around. The two boys next to me fade to a blur and there's only him. Before I fully know what I'm doing, I'm rushing towards him and him towards me and I crash into his arms, he stumbles back a little bit but squeezes me just as tight.

"Takashi," he breathes in my ear.

Without fully realizing it, I've begun to cry. They're tears of relief, from finally knowing that he's here. Full of happiness, because hey, boyfriend. But mostly, I'm crying out of guilt. Guilt from trying to take myself away from someone this amazing, from ever taunting him with my personality.

From ever making him cry.

He cried over the phone the very first time we called from the hospital. He kept on asking why I did it, but I didn't know. I still don't.

Adam pulls away from the hug and inspects my face, holding my chin in his hand before he moves his hand and laces his fingers into mine. I bury my head in his shoulder despite the fact that he's shorter than me, and I hook my fingers into his shirt, afraid he might disappear if I let go.

I hear the words "Get a room," and a soft chuckle that could only come from Keith before receding pairs of footsteps.

I wipe my eyes and take Adam's hand and walk him to my room, propping the door open. I sit on my bed and he does the same, scooting me back so I can wrap my legs around his waist from behind. I rest my forehead on his back and wrap my arms around his chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"What for? You've done nothing wrong," Adam replies, taking one of my hands and kissing the knuckle softly.

"Suicide is wrong," I mumble, shivering a bit from the feeling of Adam pressing his lips to my hand.

"But you didn't kill yourself. You wanted to, but something deep inside you told you not to take the whole bottle. Something told you to give someone a chance to find you," Adam says as he switches hands and begins to kiss the other one.

"But I shouldn't have tried to do that. I should have thought of you! I should have-I should..." I burst into tears, wishing this had gone better. Poor Adam drives out for hours only to get his shirt soaked in my tears and to be sitting on a hospital bed with his unstable boyfriend.

Adam turns in my lap, now sitting directly on my legs. "Baby," he whispers, "you are everything to me. I love you more than anything in the world, regardless of your problems. Was it a good thing you did? No, but that's okay. It's okay not to be alright, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you just because you made a bad decision. You don't mean the world to me, Takashi. You _are_ my world,"

With that, he presses his lips softly against mine, eyes fluttering shut. I kiss back, tears still dripping down my face.

"I love you," I mumble into his shoulder, after he's pulled away, "you know that? I don't think I'd be able to do this without you,"

Adam holds me tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of my head, "And I don't think I could ask for someone more perfect than you,"

"I'm flawed, though. I'm not perfect," I sigh.

"Takashi, you are. Just because you have problems doesn't mean you aren't the best person I've ever met. It doesn't mean that every fiber of my being is telling me to be with you. Sophomore year, for me at least, was when I found true happiness. And I'm going to do my best to give you the same thing you've given me. The support, the shoulder to cry one, all of it. I love you,"

I try and shift closer to him, both of us shifting to allow me to sit on Adam's lap instead of him in mine. Now that my crotch is basically on his, I shift back a little so neither of us end up in an...awkward situation.

I lift my head up and press my forehead against his, staring into his eyes. Well, his glasses anyway. His weird, weird glasses. But behind them there are the most beautiful orbs of color I've ever seen. I kiss him, it's slow and sweet and full of love.

"You guys play in here?" Marissa asks front he doorway. I nod and Adam responds with a yes so she walks away.

Capture his lips in mine again, still keeping our tongues out of it. Though our mouths are open, it's still just a little kiss. A kiss that we've been waiting weeks to share.

For once in my life, nothing is going wrong. Adam is here, and that's all the matters. Because I have a plan. One for when I get out of the hospital, because my future is one that involves Adam.

I kiss him again.

Because he's the best part of my life. He says something again.

" _You_ are my world,"

 **Okay. This sort of sucked? But it's got the promised fluff and a little bit of angst. So...angst induced fluff, which is the best kind of fluff. Bye my dears! =)**


	8. 7 - Lance

Therapy. I know it's necessary and all, but I don't like groups. Or therapy in general. So this 'group therapy' is a nightmare. I usually don't share, but Marissa approached me and told me that if I didn't share then I could be moved to a residential home after three months of not getting better.

So I'm sharing. Or considering it, anyway. Right now Shiro is telling the group about his support system.

"I'm a foster child," he explains, "but my foster parents are pretty cool. They don't exactly understand what I'm going through, but they try. Hannah, my foster sister, likes me. And Adam...he's something else. You all know that he visited yesterday, and we had a heart-to-heart. I actually thought he might break up with me because of all my baggage! But he didn't. And I think that talking to the people around you is really important for you if you're going to make progress. Even if it's not a lot, just telling Adam about some of my insecurities about what happened to me helped a lot. They don't have to say anything back, because just getting it off your chest is something that can help tons!" Shiro finishes with a soft smile in my direction.

The group leader, Nurse Diana, looks at me. "Lance, right? You haven't shared much. How about we get to know you a little bit. If you're comfortable with it, could you explain a little bit about why you're here?"

I feel my face heat up, and I glance across the circle at Shiro. Next to him is Pidge, who seems pretty cool. Then there's a couple of kids I don't know, a pretty girl with white hair and a cool accent, then Keith then me.

I take a deep breath, knowing everyone has their eyes on me. "I—" my stupid _stupid_ voice cracks. "Um, I'm here because this is where the ambulance drove me! Heh, I guess that's how most of us got here, though right?"

Diana sighs, "Lance, have you ever had a panic attack?"

I nod and lower my eyes to my hands, which lie in my lap.

"Could you describe what happened to cause your first one?"

I feel like I'm completely too hollow. Like my skinny body isn't going to muster enough courage - or breath - to let me tell this story.

"I guess it happened when I was like...I don't know. About two years ago? Whatever. I'd had a sort of bad day at school but I didn't want to let it make my whole day bad. I was supposed to babysit my nieces, and I really tried to do a good job. After everyone left, I was supposed to play some games, have them do their homework, feed them, and get them to bed before eight thirty. Well it all went fairly smoothly. Except for when every time I didn't let them do something they wanted, like have ice cream or skip homework, they said they were going to tell my mom and brother.

"That really scared me, but I didn't let them do anything they weren't supposed to. When they went to bed, I texted Mama and Leo about it. They got home about an hour later, and my nieces came bolting down the stairs and they were screaming about how bad I was. They said I didn't give them food and that I hit them sometimes if they didn't do what I told them to, and they made up a bunch of other stuff. Leo and Mama were so mad, and they yelled at me. Told me I wasn't going to be babysitting ever again. And I let them. But that night I ended up curled in the corner of my room and had a panic attack. I don't think I even realized it really," I end my story with an anxious glance upwards, seeing looks of concern on most faces. The white haired girl was looking off into space, but I guess she was admitted very recently. So it makes sense.

Diana nods emotionlessly. "Okay, now could you give us a little insight on what brought you here?"

I glare at her. "I have an eating disorder, and I tried to kill myself—" I shake and I take a breath, "You know? I puked after every meal, if I even ate. And I honestly do not feel like talking about _anything_ right now. So can you just harass somebody else in this stupid circle?"

Diana looks taken aback, and I rush out of the room, choking back tears. I can't believe I just spoke to someone like that. Marissa calls out to me from the desk as I go by, but I don't stop until I'm in my room, curled up on top of Keith's bed and sitting in the corner. Why Keith? Well, his bed is the only one not visible to the door. I hope he doesn't care.

I hear the door open and mumble out a halfhearted "go away," when I hear it.

"Why are you on my bed?" It's Keith's voice, laced with concern and maybe slight confusion.

I look up, knowing how bad I probably look right now. Puffy eyes, runny nose, just generally being ugly. "Sorry," I say hoarsely.

Keith sits down and reaches out to touch my arm softly. "Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong,"

I burst into tears again, whimpering. Keith hesitantly pulls me to his chest. I sob into his chest, no doubt getting his shirt covered in my messiness. He's warm, and I can feel his muscle through his shirt. He has the type of body that I've always wanted, but I'm too fat to have. I wonder if he can feel my flab.

"What flab?" I hear him say. Apparently I said it out loud.

"My flab. I'm so fat. I look like Jabba from Star Wars. Not like you,"

Keith pulls away for a second. "Lance, you're skinny. You don't _have_ any fat on your body,"

I shake my head, resisting the urge to cover my face. "But I do. That's why I shouldn't eat. That's why I need to throw up,"

Keith's hand shoots down to the hem of my sweatshirt, a question in his eyes. I nod, and he slips a hand under, going around to my spine. I shiver as his fingers brush over my stomach and ribs. Then, his cold hand is gone.

"You don't have any fat, just skin and bone. Hey," he lifts my chin up, and I look at him through watery eyes. "If you want, at lunch today I can sit with you. We can see if they have salad, sound good? Just eat some salad. Then you've eaten, but it's not bread or cookies. Is that okay? Will you do that?"

I nod. Actually, a salad - and maybe meat - isn't too bad. I take the hand that's holding my chin and hold it with both of my hands. "Thanks," I mumble.

Keith smiles softly, "Anytime,"

Shiro walks in and goes to Keith's bed, "Lunchtime, guys," and walks out.

Keith and I stand up and follow him out, over to the elevator. We all ride down in silence, then the elevator stops. Dings.

Time for lunch, I guess.

 **Big oof. Got some fluffy friendly klance (bOnDiNg MoMeNt). Comment my mistakes and what you thought! Bye bye my queens!**


	9. 8 - Keith

Lunchtime. I'm filled with a sense of dread and anxiety, for many reasons. One being Lance and his...situation. The other being that I don't really know what to do or how to act or where to sit. I know Shiro has a friend we'll sit with, but what if there isn't enough room? It's the unknowns that make me ever so anxious, and that's why I'm resisting the urge to grab onto Lance's hand. I think he needs some comfort too.

We step out of the elevator and walk to the cafeteria, and I can feel Lance getting more and more antsy the closer we get. I reach my hand out and nudge his pinkie. He looks at me, his fear written clearly on his face. I wrap my pinkie around his and let go just as we enter.

"What's for lunch?" Lance asks, quiet and shy.

Shiro turns. "Looks like macaroni and cheese with what I think is mashed potatoes. By the way, salad bar is over there," he points to a salad bar that looks like the only thing that doesn't contain some form of corn is the lettuce. Lance sighs and I can feel him arguing in his head whether he should succumb to eating macaroni or cheese or just some vegetables.

Lance stands between me and Shiro, still getting a tray and letting himself get served. He doesn't even go towards the salad. He doesn't get a drink, and follows Shiro to the table with Pidge. I follow after, grabbing a pear as I go past.

Lance is staring at his food, Diana standing over him and watching his movements like a hawk. "We can take it from here," I hear Pidge and Shiro saying.

Diana shakes her head. "Unlike this Marissa, I follow the rules. I am _not_ going to be leaving. Not until he eats his entire plate,"

It suddenly occurs to me how much food is on Lance's plate, and how it looks to him. He looks close to tears as Diana stands over him, jabbing a finger at the food. "Eat,"

Lance shakily takes a noodle out with his fork, putting it in his mouth and chewing like it pains him. He sighs, taking more bites. I eat too, nodding towards my food and urging Pidge and Shiro to do the same. We all eat, normally.

At some point, Lance stops. He's eaten less than a quarter of his food, and Diana is not happy.

"You _need_ to _eat_ , or I may have to report you to the hospital and have you transferred to the eating disorder wing. Would you like that? In there, they _watch_ you go to the bathroom, and they bathe you themselves. How does that sound?"

Lance looks like the human embodiment of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh: sad. "I-I can't," he whispers guiltily.

Diana tries to sound supportive "Yes you can," but ends up sounding bossy and bitchy. Because she's a bitch.

"No, he really can't," Pidge pipes in.

"Young lady, you will not speak to me that way," Diana snap at Pidge, who is currently a _dude_.

"Okay, first, I'm a guy right now. Second, Lance can't eat more because of a psychological component as well as the fact that his stomach shrank to accommodate the lack of food being put into his body. I think he's not filling up his stomach, but eating as much as he feels like. Upping it by one noodle a day is tough, and you're trying to force him to—"

"NO! Lance, you need to eat this _right now_ ," I'm sure Diana isn't meaning to make everyone look at Lance when she says it, but hey. She's a cunt regardless.

Lance shakes his head frantically. Diana keeps pressuring him and pressuring him. Suddenly: "NO!" Lance throws his food into the ground, the room goes silent. He looks up and says softly, "No,"

Marissa is here quickly, ushering the four of us upstairs and switching between scolding us and checking to make sure Lance is okay. I feel bad for how much stress we must be causing her.

When we all get sat down in our lounge, Marissa paces in front of our chairs, set in a line. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes deep breaths. Then, she faces us.

"First thing first: Lance, are you okay?" He nods. "Okay. Now let me know - all of you - if something I say triggers you. The four of you-I've never seen anything like that. Yeah, y'all broke the rules big-time. But I think that, especially for Lance, having the three others as an in-hospital support group would be amazing. Listen, because Lance and Pidge has an 'episode' is Diana's eyes, you two will be moved to the Quiet Room for the night. Lance, I'll be sitting in there watching over you and making sure you don't go to the bathroom. Pidge, I understand Diana said some potentially triggering things that have to do with gender, so feel free to talk about that,"

"Marissa," Shiro says, "Keith and Lance have grown really close over their stay. Even though it's only been three days, it seems like longer. I understand that Diana has some questionable sights on gays?"

Lance tenses next to me, and I lock pinkies with him. He squeezes my finger like a snake around it's prey. I'm sure that I'm looking pale and constipated at the same time.

Marissa looks at the two of us. "Yes, this is true. However, Diana is a nurse. And as much as I wish there was a reason for her actions, I can't blame it on her beliefs,"

A tear makes its way down Lance's cheek. He sniffles and takes his hand from mine to wipe it off, curling into himself a bit. "I don't want to go to the Quiet Room," he whispers.

"I know, sweets. But you have to, I'm sorry. If you need it, you are allowed to sit next to me instead of lying on the bed. Or punch the wall, there's a lot of holes in there," Marissa aims the last remark at Shiro, who shrugs and chuckles.

"What can I say? I'm an unstable mess with muscles," he laughs.

I roll my eyes. "Punch through our room wall so we can talk to our neighbors," I say.

Marissa shakes her head. "When I was in here, someone did that. But they had it above their bed and hid it with their pillow. And they shared meds with the person next door to them. Adderall, some pain meds, other stuff,"

Pain meds sound good. Haven't been going through withdrawals or anything yet, but it's definitely coming soon. Vaping and my moms meds - though Shelby can die in a fucking hole - got me very much messed up.

Later, during more group therapy with Diana, Lance stays in his room and cries. I try and comfort him, but Diana is already pissed and Marissa makes me go.

This hospital has a lot more drama than advertised.

It's not too bad though.

 **Another chapter bites the dust! (What) I spent a while trying to figure if I should write this from Keith's POV or make another Allura chapter. I definitely did her dirty with only 687 words in her chapter. Anywho, bye!**


	10. 9 - Pidge and Keith

Being genderfluid is really something. Not bad, but not necessarily good either, I guess. Sometimes it's clear as mud, while other times I can understand it in perfect clarity. Regardless of that, however, I can tell when someone is just blatantly using the wrong gender pronouns on _purpose_.

Meaning Diana, you bitch.

Of course, I can't exactly say anything because Diana is, for some reason, a nurse here. Why she thinks that anything she does helps at all is beyond me. And I'm pretty smart for a fourteen year old.

So I'm lying in bed, thinking back to Shiro. Or more specifically, when I first met him.

We were admitted on the same day, by some twist of fate we also ended up in the same therapy group. I still remember our first meeting too.

 _"I'm Shiro," says the boy. He's nervous and looks like he's about to jump off something high. Which is a mood, but probably not very good._

 _Marissa smiles. "It says here your name is Takashi. Would you prefer Shiro?"_

 _He nods, "I guess you can call me Takashi if you want,"_

 _Later that day, Shiro is on the phone, sobbing. "A-ad-Adam. I'm-please-I'm so sorry! I know...yeah...no I don't think you can...I know babe...sorry...I just wish I could have talked to you before...I...it's okay...shh, don't blame yourself...I love you too..." (_ **Props to you if you wanna try and figure out what Adam is saying on the other end!)**

 _"Who's that?" I ask when he's hung up and say not he lounge._

 _"Adam," Shiro smiles squishily, "he's my boyfriend,"_

 _I tease, and we just chat for a little bit._

I smile a little bit, hearing the door open. "Pidge, honey," Marissa says from the doorway, "dinnertime,"

I lazily slip my legs over my bed and slink off, standing up rigid before walking tiredly to my door and walking behind Lance, who's tall gangly body has a posture that shows both nervousness and possibly excitement.

Lance seems like a guy who likes to eat, and he likes to be happy and around friends. But I think someone he held close caused him to go into self hatred. And I think that now he's conflicted as to whether or not exactly he likes food.

Right now, Diana is standing over his shoulder, doing exactly what she did at lunch, and Lance appears to be holding back tears. He looks at his food - a cheeseburger, cut into pieces - sadly. Like he can't wait for dinner to end. I don't blame him.

Keith is next to him, as usual, and Shiro is tapping his fingers on the table, anxiously glancing at Diana.

"Hey!" It's Lance, speaking to Diana. "Why'd you do that? Don't you know how much sugar is in that? I'm barely able to eat this because of the bread, and now you're putting _ketchup_ on it! Without my permission!"

Diana scoffs, "You don't have a choice. You need to eat, and I will go to whatever means necessary to get you to your proper weight!"

Lance gasps painfully, a single tear overflowing from his left eye, "B-bu-bu-but then I'll be fa—"

"You will _not_! If you continue to resist eating, despite my best efforts, I _will_ report you and get you sent to the eating disorder wing!" Diana snaps, directing the attention of the entire cafeteria to Lance.

Without warning, Lance is up, his chair falling to the ground. Then, he goes sprinting from the room. Keith stands up too, giving Diana a look like she's dirt, and jogs after the tall boy.

[Keith]

I run after Lance, scared for what he might do to himself. He's gone up the elevator, and I follow, using the stairs. I run to our room, finding him curled up, once again on my bed. His sleeves are rolled up, and I can see tons of scars, deep and some that are just white lines against pale brown skin. And he's scratching at his arm, coming close to bleeding.

"Lance," I breathe, "What are you doing?"

His head jerks up, and there's so much pain in his eyes. I feel my own becoming teary. "Lance," I say even softer.

"K-K-eith," He whimpers, meeting my eyes. I rush over to my bed, where he's sitting, and sit next to him. "Can I...hol-d yo-you?"

I nod, putting my head on Lance's chest and my arms around him. He pulls down his sleeves, and wraps his arms around me. After a couple seconds, he starts rubbing my back softly. I feel him breaking down, sobbing into my hair.

"Please don't leave me," Lance whispers.

I pull back and brush my fingers across his cheek. "I won't, I promise,"

And I'll be damned if I break that promise.

 **K this sucked. And it was sooo short. (Much like Keith) and yeah. Y'all did get some nice Klance fluff. Bye my lil Cucumbers! :3**


	11. 10 - Hunk

**This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever lost a friend, a loved one, or even just someone they know to suicide, as well as those who survived an attempt. Y'all are strong and beautiful, and even when it feels like the worst, you can make it. You just might need a little help, and that's fine.**

 **Trigger warning! This contains an explicit suicide scene. Honestly, that's about the only thing I'll really put a warning about at the beginning of a chapter because it's just SO IMPORTANT. The other things are too, but I think this is something really big and close to home. I will put a warning right when the scene starts and right when it ends so you can skip it if you want.**

My uncle died of cancer. _10:30_ , they said, _he put up a valiant fight_. That may be, but I don't care. I don't care how much he fought, because he lost in the end. And now I can't ever see him again. So that is in my mind: 10:30.

I want something to happen, something big. Good or bad, I'm not really sure. I haven't spoken since the funeral, just cried and cut. I feel guilty, not just because of Uncle Harry dying. But because now his kids are orphans. Molly and Leah, nowhere to go.

What happened to Aunt Gina? Well, it's my fault.

October, a little before midnight, we were driving, me and Gina, and I was unhappy. Unhappy because the stupid meal we went out to get made me sick, so we had to go home.

"Gigi," I whined, "I don't want to go!"

She soothed me but to no avail. I kept on complaining, and she looked back. Going the opposite way, a man was driving with his kids. Our cars slammed into one another, sending us both into a lake below. Gina was killed almost immediately, bleeding from a head wound. I ended up getting a broken leg, and the other man and his children also died.

So really, it was all my fault.

The odd thing is, both on them died at the same time: one on 10/30 and one at 10:30. It makes me want to do something at a 1030 too. But what?

I pace around my room, hands jittering. I close my eyes, only to see the image of Gina with the steering wheel halfway through her head. They fly open, and I lock my door. I don't want my family to find me.

 **Triggering content starts now!**

I pull out a camera, propping it up and putting on video. "Mom," I say, "Dad, Amara, Felix. I'm sorry, Okay? I killed your mom and I wasn't smart enough to help your dad. I love you guys. Don't blame yourself,"

With that, I turn it off and dress in something old - sweatpants and an old t-shirt - and grab my tie. I tie it to my fan, standing on my desk chair to fasten it. Then, I make sure the bottom is in a loop and high above the ground. I let out a final sob, and unlock the door. It's not like my parents are home anyway.

I step off the chair, my neck placed firmly in the loop above the ground. I feel my face growing hot, and my vision is going black. My breaths come rattly, unable to get through easily due to my closing windpipe. Just before I lose my consciousness, I hear a shout.

"HUNK?"

 **End trigger warning (sorry loves)**

I wake up in a sterile room, my family (nieces, siblings, parents,) all sitting around my bed. I open my mouth, but my mother holds up a hand .

"Save your breath, sweetie. That took a lot of your voice. Apparently, they'll be supplying you with a tablet. And...you're being admitted to another hospital. One called Mingo. They have a really good system there, and they say they'll help you get better. The doctors are going to knock you out again, and you'll be transported to the hospital tomorrow night. For now, they will teach you to use the tablet and they're going to interview you on why you did what you did,"

I nod, and my family files out, two nurses coming back in. One of them is smallish, with pretty hair and a kind face. The other is tall, with his blond hair pushed up attractively.

"I'm Marissa," the girl says.

"I'm Adam," says the boy, "I'm a nurse in training but I do know how to work a tablet!" He smiles at me sadly and pulls one out. It's black and sleek, with a yellow H on the back.

He sits in the chair near my bed, "This button here turns it on, and this one is the volume button. If you look, there's even one for yelling and one for whispering! Cool, huh?" I nod. Adam hands the tablet to me.

"Now, once it's turned on, it'll open to this screen. Tap on 'talk' okay? Good, then you can type in whatever you want to say with this keyboard. Yep. Jeez, you're smart," Adam smiles at me.

I type shakily. ' _Thank...you'_ the tablet says. I smile back at him, feeling tiredness take over me. Then, I'm sleeping as I hear Adam's footsteps out of the room.

 **We have some Hunk! Yay! Sorry that this came out later than the rest of my chapters, I was distracted with a big project for school. Comment my mistakes, you know the drill. Bye bye my precious pandas!**


	12. 11- Keith

[Keith]

It's nighttime, I don't know how late or how early, but the stars are out. I've pulled the blinds all the way up and I'm looking at the sky. The window sill is big enough to hold me. It's right above my bed, so I'm sitting.

My knees are pulled up to my chest, not protectively, but just comfortably. My arms hang around my knees, and I'm just watching the stars. We're sort of close to the city, so it's difficult, but you can see them anyway.

I've always loved the stars, space. I've always wanted to go there. I loved learning about astronomy, just because it gave me such perspective.

We're all so small, just little ants in a universe of huge monster trucks. There's an infinite amount of planets, of stars, of the universe. I think it's beautiful, that it's all just so interesting. I love it. It's never going to seem boring to me.

"Looking at the stars?" I jump at the sound of Lance's voice. He smiles shyly from his bed. "The light woke me up,"

The window reaches from the corner of my bed to the corner of his. He sits on his end, feet on his bed still, back to the window. "I wish I wasn't here," I hear Lance whisper, "I just...I don't know. I know I need to be here, but I don't get why they couldn't just send me home and get me a therapist and let me be,"

"Lance," I say. He turns to me. "A therapist can't be there every minute of every day. Look, even if it's obnoxious to have Diana breathing down your neck every time you eat, the other nurses are actually pretty good. You're here - we're all here - because we need someone to be there with us every day. We don't know when something will happen, and we can't deal with our shitty emotions with the stress of school and other shit,"

Lance nods. "Keith, if you don't mind me asking, why-what did you-wh-what happened to get you in here?"

I freeze, feeling my breath squeeze through my lungs. I knew this was coming at some point. I sort of brushed past the topic of abuse in group, instead talking about things like self-harm. I feel a little bit of relief that it was Lance of all people who asked me.

"Lance-" I breathe, "I...this is difficult. My parents, they died. When I was a baby. It sucked I know, but it's fine now. Well, I bounced around from foster home to foster home, never really getting comfortable before being whisked away to the next place. At one point I got moved into a house with these two people named Shelby and Carl. They...abused me. And-and-they..uh..th-ey-th-t-t-"

Lance scoots forward until his legs are hanging off the ledge, his toes grazing the ground. "You don't have to finish that sentence. It's okay. I mean, it's not, but you don't have to talk about it if you can't. If you don't want to,"

I take a breath, "Shelby would...r-she'd make me do things. Like...sexual things? And it was really scary. But she'd also beat me and so would Carl. They..." another breath, "they used to drug me and try and leave me to die somewhere, but I kept coming back. I think the worst part of it is that I had all my firsts stolen from me. My first kiss, my first...time...all of it. All the things that should be with someone I loved, they took from me." I whimper off on the last part.

"You-" Lance seems at loss for words. "That doesn't count. You didn't have your first kiss, because you didn't kiss her back. You didn't kiss her. She kissed you. And your 'first time' wasn't your first time. Because you didn't have sex. It's not sex if both parties don't consent. There's not consensual sex and nonconsensual sex. There's sex, and there's rape. There isn't even a fine line. It's black and white. If at any point someone decides they want to stop but the other person keeps going, that's rape. So you may feel like you've had those stolen, and you're right. You've had things stolen from you by them. But those are not what it is. They stole happiness, innocence, a sense of security, the rushing feeling and the mystery that comes from all your firsts. But you can get those back. Some day you'll meet a perfect guy who loves you for you, flaws and all. You'll meet a guy who waits and takes it all slowly so you have time to recover from what they did. You'll meet someone who'll see you as the world, and you'll think the same. Even though it doesn't seem like that now, it'll happen. I already see you're a great person. I just wish you could see it too,"

I haven't realized it, but I'm crying. Lance looks unsure if he should hug me or not, given what I just told him about Shelby. He reaches out a hand, and I hesitantly place mine over it. We share a small smile with each other. Lance laces our fingers together, and we both look at them. I wonder if he can see my blushing. Probably not. I hope not.

I run my thumb across the top of his hand, feeling how soft it is. I notice scars on his knuckles, on his middle finger and his pointer finger. "What are these from?" I whisper, tracing the small marks with my fingers.

Lance looks down and sadly sighs. "They're from making myself puke. That's where my fingers would bump into my teeth," he whispers.

"Mmmm," is all I say. Not because it's good, but I feel like I need to have a reaction and I don't want to sound rude.

Lance looks up at the sky, which is slowly getting brighter. He looks at me. "Can we see if Marissa will give us a snack? I didn't eat any dinner and a just want something small and light,"

"Sure," I say. I keep our fingers intertwined as we walk towards the door. It flies open, revealing Diana.

" _What_ are you doing? This is a no touching facility!" She shouts.

The loud noise makes me tense, I see Lance send me a concerned look. Diana grabs our hands and tries to pry them out of each other's. Now _that_ sets me off.

All of a sudden, I'm back in Shelby's room, trying to keep my hand from being pulled off the bed post so I don't have to do what she wants. Fifteen years old, scared, crying. I scream.

I guess I'm screaming in the real world too. It's not very high pitched, but it's loud. "No! No, get away from me! Get _off_!" I shout, pushing myself back harshly onto the ground. Tears fly from my eyes.

"Go!" I scream again, wordlessly. I grip my hair tightly and curl into a ball.

Suddenly, there's a calming presence next to me.

"Keith?" It's Shiro, he's not touching me. "Can you get up? Do you think you can talk?"

I look up and shake my head. I can't do either of those. Lance kneels in front of me, coming to eye level with me, gazing at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

"Keith, I want you to imagine something with me. Can you try that?" I nod. "Okay. So...you're weightless, floating. But peacefully. Imagine the stars all around you, shining. Imagine that you're floating through a beautiful nebula. Now imagine that you hear someone below, calling for you. Reach for them. Do you feel their fingertips? That's me. I'm taking you down to Earth, but I'm gonna take you back later. I promise,"

I look up, meeting those beautiful blue orbs again. "Lance," I whisper. I reach my hand out, touching his face, feeling the soft skin. The bone behind it is prominent, but I don't care in this moment.

He nuzzles into my touch, not breaking eye contact. "Can you stand?" He asks gently. I nod, and he stands up.

He puts his hands out to help pick me up, and I take them gladly. He pulls me up, not letting go until I'm steady. Shiro and Marissa are my the door, as is Diana. She opens her mouth to say something.

"Shut the fuck up," Lance snarls from beside me, "you don't get to talk to him anymore,"

I'm shocked that anyone would ever care for me like that. Maybe Lance is right. Maybe I am worth caring for.


	13. 12 - Lance

**Just realized that I never put an authors not at the end of the last chapter...basically it was just me saying sorry for doing this to our poor emo baby.**

"What the everloving, chocolate covered _fuck_ did that bitch think she was doing?"

That's Pidge. As soon as we told her (she's a girl right now) she started ranting. From the corner of the room Marissa half heartedly shouts "Language!"

Pidge turns on her heel, "But I'm _right_!"

Marissa shakes her head and smiles. "I never said you were wrong. It's just a part of my job to remind you to watch your language. _I_ wholeheartedly agree with you. So," she tips her head at Pidge, who in turn smiles.

I turn to the right, where Keith sits next to me. He's curled in on himself, like he can't hide enough. I remember how I was exactly like that all the time when I came in. I talk about it like it was so long ago, but it's only been a few days.

Suddenly, I feel like maybe this huge sweatshirt...maybe he needs it more than I do. I stand up and walk out, going to our room.

When I get there, I take off my sweatshirt, trying to ignore the coldness that runs across my body. Shiro said I could have any sweatshirt I wanted, so I take a random one. It's still approximately eighty-seven sizes too big, but I like it. It's smaller on the shoulders, and bigger around the stomach.

I walk out, holding my old sweatshirt in one hand. I walk past Shiro, he looks ecstatic. "I'm discharging today!" He says with a huge smile.

"Really! That's so cool! Can I have your number so I can call when I get out?" I ask.

"Sure!" Shiro says. "I'll put it on a sticky note and leave it on your desk. I'll say bye later. See ya! Oh, and you can keep the pants and the sweatshirt, same with Keith," and with that, he walks off to our room.

I walk into the lounge, where Pidge is still on her rant. Keith has curled up even more, and Pidge has a softish voice to avoid setting him off again.

"Keith," I say, "do you want this?" I hold out the sweatshirt.

Keith nods and walks towards me, taking the sweatshirt gently. He puts it on and it goes past his knees, because he's just _so short_. I reach out and hold my hand in front of him, offering it up for him to take.

He does, gripping my fingers. He leads me to the seats and plays with my fingers, tapping and intertwining his fingers with mine. He rubs his thumb across my scars, his huge sleeve slipping over his hand depending on the angle of his hand.

Marissa walks in, I feel bad for not noticing she left, and says, "I have great news!" The entire room turns to her. Keith keeps his hand in mine.

"Diana, everyone's least favorite nurse, is being let go due to - let me check this list - triggering patients, physical contact with a patient, verbal harassment of a patient, and causing a relapse in multiple patients. Anything else she's done to you guys?"

Our voices overlap each other and Marissa races to write them all down, "Thanks guys! Really, it's time for her to leave,"

We all cheer, Pidge jumping up on a chair and waving her hands in the air.

Finally, we're getting rid of that witch.

Keith hugs me, burrowing his face into my shoulder and taking a long inhale. "Lance," he mumbles.

I ruffle his hair and..." _wow"_

"What?" Keith asks.

"Your mullet is really soft," I say with a light laugh.

"It's _not_ a _mullet_ ," Keith hisses. I laugh as he pulls out of the hug.

"That's definitely a mullet. Look at it!"

Keith pulls his hood over his head. Then he pulls the strings so his entire face is covered. I laugh so hard I fall out of my seat.

Pidge is still telling Marissa all about how much she hated Diana, and that one girl (Allura?) is sitting and smiling quietly into her book.

Keith is limp in his chair, snoring softly. I guess he didn't get much sleep last night. I smile at him. He's revealed his face, and he looks so peaceful. I love it.

I absentmindedly brush his bangs away from his face. God, he's so beautiful. His hand shoots up and takes my wrist. "I'm not asleep," he mumbles.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly.

Keith opens his eyes and shrugs. "Weren't we supposed to be getting a snack? You know, before my screaming woke everybody up?" He looks guilty.

"More like before Diana made you panic. Yeah, we were. Lemme ask Marissa if she can open the snack room." I say. Marissa is sitting in the corner of the room on a swivel chair.

"Can I have a snack?" I ask nervously.

Marissa looks up and smiles. "Sure. Does Keith want anything?" She asks.

I shrug and grab apple juice, a bottled water, Rice Krispies, and Cheerios. I walk out and hand Keith the apple juice and the Cheerios. Rice Krispies are basically air, and water won't get me fat. So that's what I'm choosing.

Keith thanks me and chows down. I look at him, feeling a Little envious. He looks so good. Not even in an 'I'm attracted to him' way. He's just so fit. I can't help but wish I looked like that. I don't through. Instead, I'm fat. I look like Jabba, and I don't like it.

"-ance. Lance. Lance? Are you okay?" Keith snaps his fingers in front of my face. I jump slightly.

"Yeah? Oh, I'm fine. Just..." I trail off, looking to the side.

Keith looks at me. "Is this about how you look?" He asks softly.

I nod, feeling him take my hands in his. "Lance, listen to me. You're not fat. If anything, you're so skinny it scares me. Look, you need to eat. Diana went about it all wrong, but I'm telling you now: eat what you can, and how much you feel comfortable eating. You'll be better off eating a little every day and not puking at all, than eating a lot and puking it up,"

I smile. Maybe...maybe Keith is right. Maybe the cure to my fatness is...

Support?

 **Ooooof this actually sucked. Anywho, Diana is NO MORE so I hope you guys like that. Bye bye! 3**


	14. 13 - Keith and Shiro

"Do you want to try anything else? All you have is lettuce,"

Lance looks nervously at his styrofoam bowl, which doesn't have anything but lettuce in it. He shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"How about...two croutons, a sprinkle of cheese, some carrots, and a tiny drizzle of some dressing?" I offer up, pointing to each thing in turn. Lance nods and proceeds to get each of those, showing me his bowl when he's done. I put an arm around his shoulders and lead him to our table. We're missing Shiro - he's packing - and Marissa is in his seat.

She smiles as we approach, Lance nervously holding his salad. "Is-is this enough?" He shows her the bowl.

"Of course, sweetie. Whatever you feel comfortable with," she replies. So much better than Diana.

Lance sits down and picks at his food, looking off into space every now and then.

"I do have to make sure you eat, Lance," Marissa says kindly. "I'm not going to make you but I do urge you to at least eat a bite,"

Lance nods stiffly and stabs a piece of lettuce. Almost robotically, he puts it into his mouth. He gags as he chews, swallowing with difficulty. When he's finished the painful experience, he looks around the table. Inside his eyes, I see embarrassment and fear. We all give him supportive smiles, digging into our food ourselves.

Marissa is coaxing him on, asking after each bite if he thinks he can eat more or if he'd like to stop. I notice him pick up a crouton and take a tiny nibble before putting it back in the salad.

"I'm-uh-I'm fu-ll?" Lance says sheepishly.

Marissa smiles, "Okay. You can just chill here for a bit. I'm gonna go if you're done. Bye!" She gets up, waving and smiling, before walking about six and a half feet to the nurses table.

Lance twiddles his thumbs and looks at me, "Can-can we look at the stars again?" He whisper-asks.

"Of course," I mumble, smiling at him.

"Uh...hey. Do you mind if I sit with you?" A voice asks from behind us. She's got a pretty British accent. I run and see Allura, the white haired girl from our therapy group.

Lance smiles, "Sure,"

Allura sits down, a tray in front of her. "I do hope I don't break out from this. The pizza looks _awfully_ greasy," she says.

Lance shrugs, "I dunno. I've only had the salad," he says.

Pidge looks up, "That fucking crusty-ass bitch Diana made him eat all his food and practically drowned it in fucking ketchup," she asks. (I know she's a She because of the pink hairband on her wrist)

Allura nods, "Diana did seem like a pretty awful person,"

"Awful is an understatement," Lance pipes up, "she was basically Food Satan! She viciously drowned my burger in ketchup when I was working up the courage to at least eat the patty!"

" _Crusty_ ," Pidge says slowly, a malicious look on her face.

Allura giggles softly. "I'm starting to regret not sitting here before. Though, wasn't there another one with you?"

I nod, "Shiro. He's discharging today. We'll all get to say bye though,"

Lance chuckles dryly, "Or in my case, _bi_ ,"

I facepalm, smiling nonetheless. "That was horrible," I laugh.

Pidge high fives him over the table, Allura joining in on the laughter. And to think, I'd always thought that a mental hospital would be such a sad place!

[Shiro]

Packing up is...weird to say the least. I'm excited to finally be able to see Adam again. And I've missed Sophie and Greg. They're my foster parents.

Adoptive parents.

Apparently, they moved house while I was here, and only put up my bed. They said all of my things are still in boxes in my bedroom, waiting for me to open them.

But...I'll miss these guys. Especially Pidge. We met when I first came in, and hit off right away.

I'll miss Lance and his caring heart. His shielded personality.

I'll miss Keith. He was like my little brother. Except he didn't have parents. Not even adoptive ones...

Oh.

I'm struck with an idea. What if Sophie and Greg adopt Keith! They're still able to foster kids, I know, so wouldn't it make sense? We'd be able to talk about things that happened, and support each other emotionally. I pull out a marker and write the note on my hand.

 _Ask Soph + G abt Keith_

I really hope they say yes.

{A little while later}

I walk into the lounge, suddenly finding it hard to say goodbye. Keith is sitting in a chair, facing Lance over a table. Between them, a game of Set is being played.

"Hey, guys," I say.

The room turns so me, and suddenly a stick thin boy is wrapping his arms around me.

"Shiro," Lance mumbles into my shoulder. "I'll miss you. You have my number, right? Text it and say it's you and I'll call when I get out,"

I smile, hugging him back. We both say goodbye and the next person is Keith.

"Shiro, I'm gonna miss you. I know I have your number so I can call. Bye," he says. I respond with my own farewell.

Next is the most heartbreaking goodbye of all-Pidge. She walks towards me before jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist.

"I'll miss you, I'll miss you, I'll miss you," she mumbles over and over again.

"I'll miss you too," I say, running a hand through her fluffy hair.

"Take care, everyone!" I say. Then, I walk out.

Sophie and Greg are waiting by the elevator. "Is the short emo one the one you wanted to foster?" Sophie asks.

I nod, "Keith," I say, as we walk into the elevator.

"Do you know his last name?" Greg asks.

"Kogane," I say.

Sophie nods and scribbles it down on the pad of paper that she carries around everywhere.

"Adam is in his car, waiting for you. We're gonna take your stuff. Take your time. You two should have a little while alone," Sophie says. I hug them both before walking out with them. We part ways outside the door, they head towards their minivan.

I head towards Adam.

I knock on the passenger seat window. He unlocks the door and I climb in, pecking him on the cheek as I sit down.

"Takashi," Adam says, like the name is something he doesn't get to say enough. "This isn't the time, I know, but how would you feel about spending the day out? We can go for lunch and then just shop. And then maybe a dinner? I'll take you home. I just want to spend time with you,"

I nod, "That sounds amazing, babe," I say.

Adam laughs, "Are we doing pet names now?"

I shrug. "I just wanted to see how you reacted,"

He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. "I love you. So much. Do you know that?"

I hum contently, "Yep. 'Course, you can tell me again if you want to,"

Adam rolls his eyes and kisses me. My eyes flutter shut and my hand makes its way up into his hair, my fingers playing with the ends of it.

"I love you too," I mumble against his lips. He giggles and presses his lips against mine more urgently. I can feel his smile against my lips.

His tongue swipes against my bottom lip, asking permission. Obviously, it's immediately granted. He tastes like honey and mint and coffee. He smells like cherry blossoms and almonds. His hair is so soft, like I'm running my fingers across a cloud.

I feel myself getting hungry. I pull back, little by little. Until I've pulled away from his lips completely. He touches my face, his fingers running across my cheek. I place my hand over his, flattening his palm against my cheek. We gaze into each other's eyes.

Adam has such pretty eyes. They're brown and gold and they have green flecks in them. I fell in love with those eyes first. Before I even knew him well enough to decide if I had a crush or if I just thought he was hot. (Spoiler alert: it was a crush)

"Takashi, sweetie," Adam says, his gaze never wavering, "where do you want to go for lunch?"

 _Anywhere_ , I think, _anywhere. As long as I'm with you._

 **Yay! So Allura and Shiro are probs gonna get closer later in the story just bc of how I set this up. Whoops I guess. Tbh I'm kind of sad she died. Not even because i particularly liked her. She was just a character with flaws so beautifully etched into her personality, in a rly realistic way. So anyway. We got ADASHI FLUFF! (More to come...?) Later taters!**


	15. 14 - Adam

I've waited a while. Quite a while. And I'd never give any of it up. Even if I missed Takashi so, so much, I'd never give up this experience. And not because it was good.

Because it wasn't. It was horrible. It was so horrible and I missed him and I cried a lot over the phone. I missed his voice, his warmth, his hair. I just missed having him near me. I think I took it for granted, what he gave me. And I know I'm never going to do that again.

Missing him was the worst feeling I've ever had.

He's looking it the window at the sky, eyes shining bright. His mouth is in a sort of adorable smile. (Well, not sort of. A positively adorable smile.)

When we stop at a red light, Takashi turns to me.

"Adam," he says, "why do you always call me Takashi?"

I shrug, "Feels more...intimate, I guess. Isn't that what Marissa called you? I dunno. I just like calling you that,"

He smiles at that. "Why did you come pick me up?"

"I wanted to. More specifically, I wanted to kiss you and take you on a date,"

Takashi laughs at that, reaching for my phone charger. He plugs his long dead phone into it, and it buzzes halfheartedly on his thigh.

Even in the baggiest clothes imaginable, he still looks amazing. I wouldn't want it any other way. The scar over his nose from things he wouldn't tell me. The curve of his lips and nose. The angle of his chin. Everything just looks so perfect. _Takashi_ is perfect.

How did I fall so in love with him?

(Not that I'm complaining)

We pull into the parking lot of the mall. We decided to get some food, grab smoothies, and go shopping. Then, we'd get dinner. Since I'm staying with Sophie and Greg for a little bit (read: the next two days), I get to snuggle up to Takashi.

We climb out of the car, and I make my way over to Takashi. I press my lips against his, softer than in the car, feeling him give in to my touch almost immediately.

We walk into the mall hand in hand. Takashi pulls my towards a pizza place reading _Vrepit Sal's Pizzaria_.

"You've _got_ to be kidding," I say. "We haven't been here since we first started dating!"

Takashi smiles. "I know. That's why I want to go. You can't deny that they make amazing pizza,"

I sigh, knowing that he's 100% correct. He takes my hand and leads my through the door. Inside, it's space themed. The floors are black and dark blue ombré, with white and silver specks on the ground. Sounds cheesy, I know, but it's actually beautiful.

The walls are white, teal, black, and grey. They're swirled to look like nebulae. Takashi's hand is slightly sweaty, but I'd never give up holding his hand for the world.

The man at the front smiles and greets us. "Hello! How many?"

It takes me a second to realize what he means. "Oh. Um. Table for two, please?"

He nods and takes a pair of utensil packs. He grabs two menus and leads us towards the back, where a single table with two chairs sits.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly," says the man. Then he leaves.

Not thirty seconds later, a tall girl appears at our table. "Hi, my name's Shay. I'll be your waiter today. Would you guys like anything to drink?"

I smile. "Can I have some iced tea?" Shay writes it down.

"And for you?" Shay asks Takashi.

He smile up at her with his heart warming smile. The one that makes me want to melt into a puddle. It's the smile I fell in love with.

"Uh...l-lemonad-ade?"

Shay smiles and nods. "Your drinks will be here quickly,"

She's not wrong. The drinks come in five minutes, and we order a five cheese pizza. We talk and laugh quietly for a little while, until we're both full of pizza. We pay and leave, ready to go shopping.

The first place we shop at is a cheap clothing store. It's got nice looking clothes, but for some pretty low prices.

Takashi looks at me, down a bit because he's taller than I am, and I lead him to the men's section. I find him a shirt and jeans, telling him to try them on.

He walks out, looking _fine_. He's got a white shirt with black on the shoulders and across part of the chest, and a pair of faded blue jeans. He's in his socks.

Without thinking, I push him back into the changing room. I'd gotten some more clothes - another pair of lacy panties, some socks, more shirts and pants - that I wanted to see him try on.

Takashi grins when he sees the panties. He immediately puts them in the 'to buy' pile. Along with the socks. And I put the jeans he'd previously worn in there.

So he's standing in front of me, in nothing but boxers, looking intently at the pile of clothes I brought in. It takes everything in me not to press him up against the mirror and kiss him senseless.

"Like what you see?" Takashi asks.

I blush and nod, still staring at his abs, his butt, his chest, his arms.

He pulls another shirt on, this one is purple. He pulls on white and black ombré pants. He looks just as hot.

"Babe..." I say, my eyes gazing up and down his body. "You have to buy these,"

He nods and smirks at me while he takes off his shirt. Then, he takes off the pants. For a second, he stands there.

"Wanna go get an early dinner? Sophie and Greg just dropped my stuff off and they have something with their friends until late...we'll have the whole house to ourselves,"

I nod, knowing exactly what he's implying. At most: blowjobs. At least: some hardcore making out. I pick up the clothes we've decided on and we pay for them, walking out.

We get dinner at a fast food place, trying to get to Takashi's new place. He doesn't know where it is, but I do.

It's a blur, unloading and getting up the stairs. All I know is that I'm pretty soon on his bed, sitting.

He sits next to me, resting my head on his shoulder. He lifts my head up by my chin and kisses me softly, his eyes closing.

I deepen the kiss very quickly, eagerness overtaking my usually rational mind. I feel him him against my lips. I pull back, very quickly. Only to chapter his lips in mine again, tossing a leg over him so I'm straddling his lap.

My fingers are laced in his hair, his hands are wandering around my midsection. He moves them to the back, all but massaging me. He dips his hand lower, putting two fingers below the waistband of my jeans.

I know exactly what he's doing: teasing. He's trying to see if he can make me make any sounds. Two can play at that game.

I kiss his neck, hearing him gasp softly. "Adam," he whines softly.

I pull back. "I win," I say before going back to his lips. He fiddled with the hem of my shirt before taking it off, and I do the same with his.

"Takashi," I head myself exhale. I lick his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth to let me in. His mouth tastes like a strawberry milkshake and french fries.

He's pressing up against me, his hands now down the back of my pants - but not my underwear - and tapping away. He suddenly squeezes, and I let out an involuntary sound. It's somewhere between a moan and a giggle. Whatever it is, Takashi enjoys it because he does it again and again.

"Ta-ka-shi," I say between kisses, "we shouldn't,"

I know where this is leading, and I don't think he's ready yet. He just got out of the hospital a few hours ago!

"Mmmm you're right. But I wish you weren't," he grumbles, moving his hands up to my back. He kisses me again, softly. This isn't a hot kiss anymore. His is one full of love. It's slow and sweet and perfect. Just like him.

I stare at his face, finally settling on his grey eyes.

In his eyes you can see the stars. In his heart: the future.

 **OOF. That really sucked huh. Lemme know abt all my mistakes n stuff. Byeeee!**


	16. 15 - Lance's Flashback

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="551905c4fe2bc2099bb632da7f1cd21c"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"This is a flashback, mostly of Lance becoming how he is. Bulimic, depressed, how he realized anything wrong with him. His suicide attempt. The flashbacks are in italics, while anything happening to Lance in the present are just in normal text. /span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="61b000643f0b23ce7c55a71d536173bf"I sit on the window sill with Keith, ready to hear a story or something. I know it's probably too much to hope, but I hope Keith tells me more about himself. I don't know how I feel about telling him all of my baggage - I don't want to be a burden - but I guess I'll figure it out on the spot if he asks. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="88bea0fd8f230c707ec3e39163985f6e""Hey," I start the conversation, not liking the silence much. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3883d7a053db9c9b24c806470c40b301""Why are you here?" Keith asks suddenly. Well, time to decide./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="24f313564cd881c4ee9bb09253d43926""Why are any of us here, really?" I respond. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a2140041fe875d746d5cb0fe8257e09f"Keith rolls his eyes. "I know what you're doing. I also know you know what I mean. But just for laughs, I'll specify: Why are you in the hospital?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9a48fe520f589a2c31a4cb5510bf4314"I sigh. "Do you want the reason or the stuff leading up to it?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="da0c2f15cbbad4d72c8a163ea0481d59"Keith looks significantly less annoyed. He looks...sad, but also worried and maybe a little bit relieved. "Whatever you feel comfortable with," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8f877f072b6fe2e44e62f04f042be201"I sigh and sit back against the window. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="651eb8628ae75bfbdd707a95ce686691"[Flashback]/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26478db11a74b3c8675f463fee30cba7" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ca82d98490f4f4a528ad5d3af9104391"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Nyma is smiling at me. She's so beautiful. We're sitting in my brother's car, after our first date. I feel something in the air shift between us. I start to lean in, Nyma doing the same, until our lips touch each other's. I pull back with a smile, before kissing her again. Less hesitant this time. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cfe201de5943405c840233fec4378a45" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2938ea7514052b0e3e5ce5c53a7814b7"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Lancey..." she coos in my ear, playing with my hair, "can you do something for me?" I nod eagerly, knowing that this girl has me wrapped around her finger. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="aa3fb1220a36bb3d70c44dfacdb6f13e"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Of course. Anything for you Nyma," I respond. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="05a6d2843fab37fdd382c9e2db2b50e3"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"She whispers he request in my ear, and I can't get to the backseat fast enough. All I remember is that at some point, one of us gets a call right after some...stuff...and I have to take her home. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b2e0c2190d2ce20fee82bfb5d452c2d3"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The next day, everyone is staring at me. I'm a generally self conscious person, but it's never been a necessarily bad thing before. Now, though, I can feel the eyes of my peers following my every move as I make my way through the hallways. To class. Even when I'm just washing my stupid hands in the stupid bathroom and some stupid guy comes in and stupidly stares at me. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="5040700dd7c0473909ca16806d24833d"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I just want to cry. Or go back in time and tell myself to tell Nyma to not tell anyone what happened because I'm a private person. It's not about Nyma. I'm not embarrassed of being with her. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="088ff4ea25443375f9f779ddd927ae26"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I sit down at the lunch table between her and our friend Lotor. His hair is pulled into a bun and he's chewing on a pen thoughtfully. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="be30a64d46fd41ba3ba255d5e5a72307"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Does this look right to you?" He asks, showing me a beautifully drawn picture. Lotor wants to be an artist when he gets older. Already, he's working hard on realistic portraits and blending every color imaginable together. I examine the picture. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="992365af6cb4456370d6998b32fe4bba"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Her neck," I point out where her throat is, "girls don't have such a sticky-outy Adam's apple,"/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9182c06a664714d68fdb438953f783bb"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Lotor looks at what I'm pointing to, nodding and pulling out his phone. I see him snap a picture of his drawing and circle the area where he needs work. He erases the front of the lady's neck and looks at Nyma's neck for reference. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="941f5011653abf1203779f6910df4fcf"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Making a move on his girl? Damn, McClain, if you're gonna bring her down so low you might as well protect her!" Some football player shouts, getting the attention of the whole cafeteria. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="5af2e031a1bd82ebef23a9b80b14277f"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""He's just using her neck for reference," I mumble. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7e687025da3ddbb5d73c4395240ad963"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Nyma sighs, "Lance, babe, can I talk to you?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="aacf9bc55f7c56d6268fe00f37583c74"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I nod and follow her out of the room, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with anyone out of fear for getting jeered at some more. Once we get out into the hallway, and away from the chaotic noise of the lunchroom, Nyma turns to me again. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="56e0a7b5e8ede1a720dd574ffe91a5bb"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""I need you to do something about your weight," she states bluntly. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ab7d793d6bf512669e910245dcadadc0"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""I-what?" I splutter. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="477d670d801eb098217b1981194d2005"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"She fixes me with a serious look. "Your. Weight. It's bad for my reputation to be dating such a pudgy guy like you. Even last night when we were having sex, I could feel your fat on your hands and your stomach and your thighs, and let's not even mention your incredible amount of chins!" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ae19bd0e2ba464eed65a415f4970480f"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I nod. "Sorry, Nyma. I'll eat healthier," That's what she's trying to say, right? Because that's how relationships work: you tell each other honest things and help them get better. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="43c9ffc9abbd81551d3e0d6cf428ed1c"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Nyma, however, apparently never got the memo. "Eat less? Hell no. You'd need to stop eating altogether to get rid of all the blubber," she laughs, turning on her heel and pulling me back into the lunchroom. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c1ea20bab14dd8a2f3c8873cdbd49b95"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I sit closer to Lotor than before, trying to distance myself from Nyma and her bitchiness. He looks a little confused, but upon seeing the look on my face, he decides against asking, choosing instead to show me what he's drawing. It's a picture of his best friend, Romelle. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="93f3b6bbcb637cb8fd7598eb231f6815"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"He's managed to perfectly draw the wondrous expression she so often wears on her face, the wonder in her eyes and the way her smile goes up more at one corner when she wears said look on her face. Her hair is drawn in such a way that makes me feel like if I reached out to the paper and touched it, I'd feel how soft and brushed through it is. The style of her hair is something I don't think I've seen Romelle wear more than once. It begins with a small braid at the top, running along her hairline. From there, the braid goes all the way around her head, like a crown. The hair between is straight, and what flows out of it is, well, flowy. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ea74f93fe9fc00053029b4c7a0f0ffae"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""It's beautiful," I murmur, only to Lotor. He smiles and holds it up, revealing the new and improved neck. Now it looks just like Romelle, every bit of it. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="019557ef80411a002358f61d223c96d8"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Good?" He asks, gesturing to the neck. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6fb56455d61634ec26ddb7ac604f5885"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Good," I respond. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="171ba7e8136f4e49da3ba5db97fb7fbc"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Lancey," Nyma yanks on my arm from the other side of me, "we're all going to your house tonight right? For dinner?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e170d307e4ec573d3986f646188a496c"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I fake a smile and nod, not wanting to show her how much she keeps hurting me. "Yeah," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6ce7c2a07b9dfb7563681bcf857e5920"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Good, and remember what we talked about," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3e3a3c1ec2603b929cf256cd4b4a743b"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I sigh and nod, turning back to Lotor. The bell rings as I'm trying to work up the courage to ask him for help on this...predicament, of sorts, that I've gotten myself into. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="edaafdd2f633d042d37cf70278fd9f7a"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Later that day, Nyma, Lotor, Romelle, Plaxum, and Swirn are all in front on my door. I smile and let them in, they all go to the lounge. Inside, there's pizza, sodas, popcorn, pretzels, a stack of movies, juice, video games, controllers, chips, dip, and even some homemade guacamole. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="30ee998d9eee08e30b3f23d4e7f7f989"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Lance!" Romelle gasps, turning to me, "Did you forget /emanimal crackersem style="box-sizing: border-box;"?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3b054ff407bfc23d5ed32aab4083d1bb"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I grin and pull a bag from the kitchen counter, handing it to the girl. She squeals and takes a seat perched atop the couch, right above Lotor. "Whatcha doin' Lotsy?" She asks in a perky voice. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f9254dd413531371a6a9db7490850e45"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Lotor - or Lotsy - looks up and smiles fondly. "I'm trying to draw this picture, but it's not coming out right. I want to draw the design for the back of your cheerleading jackets, but I can't figure out how to incorporate the people holding up the flier into the words. Wanna help me?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c3f2442822940b0aea8c3bd57878a5b0"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Romelle nods and bounces down next to him, stuffing some animal crackers into her mouth. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f28e9acad343d2383097ef5969fd7ee2"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I absentmindedly take a slice of pizza, eating the whole thing while watching the movie that someone put on while Romelle and Lotor got situated. I feel a sharp jab in my side and look up. Nyma is glaring at my. If looks could kill, I'd be long dead by now. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e38ab37ed781af433eb703ec001da7c3"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I put the pizza crust down and walk from the room, heading towards the bathroom. One of my sisters is bound to have something in there to help with weight loss. Right? Wrong, as it turns out. The only meds in there are Veronica's birth control pills and several different bottles of Advil. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cab3b280bd83aed3f2d51fa626c28a6c"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I bend over the toilet, telling myself it'll only be this once. Just this one time, then I'll never do it again. I press a finger down on the back of my tongue, then add another finger and just...slam my fingers there. My gag reflex is apparently easily stimulated, because vomit blasts out of me, like it's propelled out of me by something other than my desire to please Nyma. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b021e6c6cdfeebbd9f5ab98b1d2342ad"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"When it's over, I brush my teeth. I walk from the bathroom and back into the lounge. Nyma still looks disappointed in me. If only she knew what I just did for her. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="5f7561c7122003d0886dcc02a833dc00""Lance..." Keith says, his eyes looking shiny, "that's horrible. Please tell me you realized that she was a bad person?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="1f34def43e87a5e7a2296d1cad760dfb"I shake my head, wiping at the tears that have fallen down my cheeks. "She's the one who had to break up with me, because I couldn't take the hint that she didn't want me," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b7d02b64f9e47354bf0b62bf4c2cd954" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="601294672254806226dd2a5ea9c4bacf"[Flashback]/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="714e797025a55e6b0e4a0fb86b5af67a" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a65def49f8886361b689e783b6c2b81b"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Nyma stomps up to me, seething. "Lance!" She barks. I wince at the sudden loud noise. "I heard you've invited Romelle to go dress shopping with us! Why?"/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="62ab0a39d5c77524d057e64d39cb9649"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I shrug, smiling. "She doesn't have anybody to go with. I thought we could all go as a group!" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ee5cd411c1c815efc5bd76fe61aedc8d"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""NO! YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR BULLSHIT ANYMORE. WE ARE span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"OVER/span!" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="1eecd4e0d5df1a8c6247af978d2672cc"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"My smile cracks, "Why?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="bbe187ba85c6f746fb22e4faeea96e32"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""You're cheating on em! You're using Plaxum and Swirn and Romelle to get off when I'm not enough," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f79b9e3229c287a77f2d6fff18640362"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""I promise I'm not," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d5ee15a967a6fd52c8116560eace67bc"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Well...I don't listen to fat people. Leave me and my friends the fuck alone or I swear, I will ruin your life," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0473bed6e6e5120c5cdda3cc8a9bbea8"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Anger wells up inside me. "You already did," I say, stomping away. I stomp to the end of the hallway before seeing Romelle and Lotor at a water fountain, talking. I let out a soft cry and rush toward them, tears beginning to make their way down my face. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4431e0307bc42e34adbb69a29a988967"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Lance! Lance!" Romelle shouts. At some point, I've fallen to the ground and I'm breathing in short bursts. My brain is short-circuiting and I forget how to form words. I open my mouth but all that comes out is a broken whimper. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9044bafbaf2543bfd8bff93ff0991cd4"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Lotor kneels next to me and whispers something, lots of somethings, to me. I can't hear them over the rushing of blood in my ears, but I can tell that he doesn't need me to hear them. He just needs me to hear the melodic tone of his voice as he speaks. And I do. I latch onto that sound and try and find five words to describe it. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="682160fc6ad12f783f70608a9b46b9b9"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Soft/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e88b729bd57576e2235a11d522c65554"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Melodic/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="67c4416fbd6fc82aafb54d65273d1933"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"uhh...uh...u..h...uhm.../em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6b8540830f12be213fb707775054b395"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I slam my hands to his chest suddenly, he stops talking. I move one hand to over my heart, and one hand over his. I try to match my heartbeat to the one I feel in Lotor's chest. After what seems like forever, I'm back. My vision is still a little airy, but I feel better. Lotor smiles at me and walks me to his car. Romelle trails behind us before taking my other side and helping me out. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="458f765d7cb6a55e81f6b4423bd3cb70"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"They're good friends. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f38f085c1b938f2edbdd66de2f73e709" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e50ad18dd309e93034381c59407a743f"Keith hugs me then. He just wraps his arms around me and squeezes. I feel bad that he's feeling all of my fat. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="275267dfc2da7f7d61d3503c4f6b75a9""You aren't fat," he whispers into my ear as if he can sense what I'm thinking. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="70bef3ab5b0e9e94f25ac11ac25ec243"I shrug, taking a moment to run my fingers through his hair. "Your mullet is soft," I say. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ca68b79726f67ba7f21345e48fac6ea0"He pulls back, looking slightly shocked. "It's em style="box-sizing: border-box;"not/em a mullet!" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="1f7cdf788f714778039f9e6c4f71a6a1" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ef947f42dbca20656f1fcb1999065e48"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"Another chapter done! I gotta say, I really like this book. In fact, someone recced it! Idk who, but I was scrolling through tumblr and found that one of the klance fic rec accounts I follow put mine up for langst! AND IT WAS THEIR FIRST REC! Sorry, i'm excited. Bye! /span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="fd28fa46e51d32fdcf8be80b3f7acb6b" /p 


	17. 16 - Keith's Flashback

**TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF CUTTING, RAPE, DRUG AND ALCOHOL USAGE, SWEARING, AND ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER. READ WITH CAUTION!**

It's probably my turn. Lance has been brought to tears by his story, and I think that if I don't tell mine now, I might never get the courage to again. I scoot closer to him on the ledge, letting my feet rest on his bed rather than curling up on the sill like he is.

I take a deep breath. "Lance," he looks up, "Can-can I tell you what happened to me? Like you did? With details? Is that okay?"

Lance takes a deep breath and nods. I can tell that he's scared for what I'm about to say. I would be too.

[Flashback]

 _"Have you finished your chores?" Shelby snaps at me from the living room. I haven't, but I know that if I tell her that she'll beat me again. I still hurt from last time._

 _"Yes," I respond, grimacing as she walks into the kitchen to see me bent over the dishwasher, the sinks still half full._

 _"Oh..." Shelby snarls, "I see. So it's okay to only do a half assed job? OH, or were you , lying to me?" I whimper and shake my head, trying desperately not to think about all the possibilities._

 _"Someone needs to be punished..." she singsongs. Without any warning, she pulls me away from the kitchen and up into her room. Just as I'm about to ask her what we're doing, I feel her lips harshly slam into mine. She bites my lips, so ferociously that I can feel a little blood spurt out._

 _Her tongue licks around my mouth, making me want to gag. I don't realize until Shelby pulls back that she's taken her shirt off. And her pants. And her...everything. Oh no. from behind her, she produces a scarf and ties it around my wrists, pinning me to her headboard. She sits on me, rubbing herself up and down my body. I let out a scream as she bites into my thighs._

 _"GET OFF!" I shout, trying desperately to kick her away. She keeps herself where she is and proceeds to move her mouth around my body..._

I gasp, remembering all of the feelings I'd felt while she hit me and forced herself onto me. Without meaning to, I jolt backwards into the window. My head hits it painfully, and I let out an involuntary whine.

"Keith," Lance says. I feel his presence closer to me than before. I know he doesn't know if he should touch me, but just his presence is calming. "Keith?"

I take a shaky breath and meet his eyes. He looks sort of...scared. And sad. And sympathetic.

[Flashback]

 _I'm gonna do it. I'm going to tell Shelby and Carl that I'm gay. Maybe then that will make Shelby stop doing what she does to me. I feel used and dirty and I want it to stop. "Hey," I say nervously as I walk into the living room._

 _They don't even acknowledge me. "So, I'm gay,"_

 _The tension in the air is so thick that if you tried to cut it with a knife, your knife would break very quickly. Shelby turns and coos sweetly._

 _"No, you're fucking not. In fact, you just need the right lady to straighten you out. And maybe a man to show you that you aren't and will never be, a gay person,"_

 _I whimper as Shelby and Carl close in on me, sinking into the corner. I run into the hallway, but Carl shoves me into a door and rips my shirt from my chest. I let out a desperate cry and scratch at his face just as Shelby walks to me slowly. She smiles at Carl and they both begin to take off their clothes._

 _Heat. Heat, heat, heat. That's what it's like to have this done to you from two people, both moaning and panting as you feel yourself becoming more and more scared. But there's a little voice in your head saying that maybe..you deserve it. After all, they would've stopped if you didn't deserve this. Right?_

 _I feel a mouth biting into my skin, right on my lower back, sharply. I gasp and lean away from the tough, accidentally moving closer to Shelby. She slams her hand into my stomach, running her hands through my bangs. From behind me, I feel Carl doing the same._

 _A blood-curdling scream rips through me as the two abusers begin to pull away before bringing out a whip. I should've known they'd have kinks like this. There's a sharp pain across my back and butt before the world goes dark._

I furiously wipe tears from my life. I'm scared that they're gonna come and find me and take me and keep me. I'm genuinely terrified. I hate not knowing what'll happen to me. Will they even be allowed in here? I didn't tell anyone about the abuse besides Lance.

[Flashback]

 _I take another swig from the bottle. I don't know at what point I decided that this is where my life was heading, but it did. I have beer bottles strewn on the ground at my feet, next to empty plastic bags that used to contain edibles. The whole room smells like weed and alcohol and vomit and pee._

 _From beside me, a voice sounds. I hear them from what seems like a different plane of existence. "Ever tried these?" Soon enough, a pale hand is in my eyesight, holding out an unlabeled pill bottle. I turn my head to a girl with her head shaved into a Mohawk._

 _I smile and take the bottle, dumping one into my hand before downing it with another slow drink from my new can of beer. I can feel myself getting woozy as I stand up and walk away, swaying and bumping into things. I've gone a lot further than I ever have before. Usually I just stick with one or the other. And I've never tried pills of any kind._

 _Guess I've really lost my shit._

 _I walk into the house, seeing Shelby waiting for me with that same whip. Before I have a chance to say anything, there's an angry red mark across my cheek. I know I'm not thinking straight - or at all for that matter - but I don't care. I pounce._

 _I dig my nails into Shelby's arms, punching her across the face. I don't know what I'm screaming, but I think I'm just letting out all the pent up emotions, all the thoughts, all the pain, out. I scream wordlessly, but somehow manage to make sure everyone can hear my words in perfect clarity._

 _Eventually, the anger wears me out and I resign myself to the punishment that I've gotten so used to lately._

Lance looks horrified. "Y-you did drugs?" He sounds scared.

I sniffle and nod, not wanting to look at him in the eyes. "Yeah," my voice sounds stuffy, "I wish I hadn't,"

Lance creeps his hand towards mine and I take it without hesitation. I fiddle with his long slender fingers as I continue on.

[Flashback]

 _I'm standing in front of the mirror, glaring at my bruised and battered body. Is that a hickey? Is it nail scratches? Or is it a bruise? A mark from the whip?_

 _I shake my head and take a long drag from the cigarette that I'm currently smoking. I found it in Nadya - the girl with the Mohawk and the pills - I found it in her locker right before she got arrested for having drugs on school property._

 _A little voice in my head reminds me that this isn't how I want to live. But I drown it out by taking a blade from my razor and running it across my skin, fast and firm. A line of red appears, and I do it again and again before my entire arm is covered in red lines that leak blood from them._

 _I smile. But it isn't enough. I cut on my upper arm, deeper this time, relishing in the feeling of the pain -_

"Please stop," Lance whispers. I shut my mouth immediately. _Oh no. Oh nononononononono_.

He looks as me, still keeping his fingers in mine. "I-I just don-I do-I don't want to not listen. I told you my story and I want you to tell me yours but..." He looks at me. "I hate hearing people talk about blood. Seeing it is fine but as soon as someone describes it I'm gone. P-P-p-p-p-l-ea-s-ple-ase-plea-s-e,"

I move my other hand over his, which is clutched tightly. "I can stop, I've already gotten to the point,"

"You don't have to," Lance says with a guilty expression.

"I want to,"

I pull him into a hug, taking in his warmth and the comfort I get from just generally being around him. I sob into his shoulder, every one shaking my body violently as I cling onto Lance for dear life. He's my life raft.

As I cry, I make myself a silent promise: I will not let anybody do that to me. Ever. Again.

And that's final.

 **Oof that was bad. Sorry if this triggered anyone, I didn't mean to go that far with some of my descriptions. Obviously I will not be writing smut, at least not for a very long time. Most likely though, it will just be implied but not described. I think that Keith will have some time for talking to Lance about what happened when his foster parents found out about his self-harm, but I'll just let this story take me where it wants to go. I feel so bad for doing this to my babies! I'm sorry. Bye my precious beans! 3**


	18. 17 - Adam

Takashi is excited today. Sophie and Greg said that they could get one of his hospital friends into their custody. Currently, I'm sitting on his bed, trying to think of what to write. I have a ten page essay due at midnight, and I've only got one of them written. Takashi is downstairs, meeting his new neighbors. There's an old woman named Rosa and her children.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and I see Takashi in the doorway. He has a casserole dish in his hands, and a smile on his face.

"Adam, do you want any?" He offers. "You haven't eaten much today,"

I groan and flop backward on the bed. Takashi sits down with a sympathetic chuckle. "That bad, huh?"

I groan again and nod. He has _no_ idea. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his torso. "I want coffee," I say into his tummy.

He laughs, and I feel it vibrate where my face is. "I can get you some, if you want it so badly. But you also have to have some food,"

I sit up and prop myself up against the wall. "I'm down for that. You know my coffee order anyway. Can you get me like, four of them, actually?"

Takashi laughs again and pecks my nose, leaving me blushing. "'Course, babe. Be back soon," he says, walking out. I take a moment, leaning against the wall, to think about how cute he is. Sweet _lord_ I love him. If I were to get him a cheesy World's Best Boyfriend mug, not only would he appreciate it and use it all the time, but it would be _so accurate_.

I hear a knock on the door and look up to see Sophie holding a plate of what appears to be the casserole that Takashi was holding when he came in.

"Hey, sweets," she says, "Shiro told me you wanted some casserole,"

I roll my eyes fondly. "Actually, he _made_ me have some. I asked him for some coffee,"

Sophie smiles. "Well, he's gone off to get you some. Don't worry, you'll be awake soon enough,"

She hands me the casserole and I smile and thank her, taking a bite as soon as she's gone through the door. Now this, this is a good casserole. I don't know who Takashi's neighbors are, but they need to be over here all the time with their casserole.

I eat the rest quickly, looking at my stupid paper again. Ugh, _why_ did I think this would be a good idea? Just because I'm _good_ at it doesn't mean I want to do _this_. Whatever this is. I mean, Takashi has a pretty bright future ahead of him. And we're probably gonna get married anyway. So...what's the problem with dropping out? I could stay at home and learn to cook and keep a garden, while Takashi could go out and make money and help provide for our life together. Sounds perfect.

"Adam,"

I jump at the sound of my name, looking around for the source. In the doorway, Takashi is holding two trays of my favorite coffee drink, and propping the door open with his hip.

"You literally haven't moved since I left," he says. I look down at myself. So I haven't.

"I ate some casserole," I say.

Takashi sets the drinks down on his bedside table and sits next to me, rubbing my shoulders. "What are you even writing about?"

I sigh and lean into his touch, shifting so he's behind me and I can lean my head into the crook of his neck. "I don't even know anymore," I admit.

Takashi presses a soft kiss to my forehead, almost not even there. "You're smart enough to figure it out,"

"I didn't even want to do this," I confess, "I wanted to be an aeronautical engineer. But instead I'm becoming a doctor,"

"Doctor's save lives,"

"Yeah? Well becoming one is about to be the end of mine," I realize what I've just said. "I-I mean...uh...I'm sorry. I know that I shouldn't be complaining. I got into on of the top colleges in the world, and I'm talking about wanting to, you know, when you've got all this stuff and I-"

Takashi cuts me off with a kiss. "It's fine," he kisses me again, "you're fine. You're stressed, I get it. I know that if you were really considering doing _that_ , you'd come talk to me so we could help each other,"

I want to cry. Not even sad, or angry, or even happy tears. I want to cry so I can get that emotionless feeling afterwards, and so I can go to sleep without constantly thinking about what might happen if I don't get this done. Takashi, ever the amazing boyfriend, runs his fingers through my hair soothingly.

"If you want, we can try calling Meredith? I think she did something like this," he offers. Meredith was his foster sister before she aged out. She's a couple years older than I am, and she kept in touch with Takashi even after she left for good. Now, she's an amazing doctor who's currently trying to find a cure for cancer.

I sniffle, already close to tears. "I'd like that," I say, hearing the tears in my voice. Takashi dials up her number, taking my hand in his as he does so.

She picks up immediately, turning on video call. "Hey, Shiro! How's it going?"

"Heh. It's okay for me. Though, I think Adam needs some help," he responds with a small smile.

"Adam? As in 'too perfect to be real' Adam? As in 'he has such beautiful eyes' Adam? That Adam?" Meredith teases.

I pipe up "Adam as in ' I'm dangerously close to crying until I can't breathe over this assignment' Adam,"

All eyes turn to me, and Meredith smiles softly. "Whaddaya need help with, kiddo?"

Takashi hands the phone over to me, and Meredith practically writes the whole thing for me, explaining as she goes. Next to me, Takashi falls asleep while holding me. I've gone through all of the coffee he brought, but it still barely seems to do anything for my ability to stay awake when his snuggly warmth is causing me to have dangerous levels of tiredness.

"And that's all you need! Now, I know there's still a little bit of room left. So change each period size from 12 to 16 and it'll take more room." I do so, and the paper is complete.

"Thanks, Mer," I say.

"No problem. I'd do anything for the love of my little brother's life,"

I blush, saying goodbye and hanging up. Since I'm currently being slept on, I connect Takashi's phone to my computer, allowing it to charge. I submit my essay with five minutes to spare before lying down on my side, allowing him to spoon me.

"Goodnight, Takashi. I love you," I say.

"Mmmm...goodnight. Love you too..."

 **Hey guys! Merry Christmas, for those of you who celebrate it! For those of you who don't, I hope you're all having a wonderful winter! I got a new computer and a Polaroid camera, so I'm doing pretty well. I also got some socks and a Christmas Hippo! Also some cool earings. Anywho, you know the drill. Comment on my mistakes, and I'll see you soon! Bye! 3**

 **(P.S. Now you guys are gonna have to actually wait for longer since I'm not just taking already finished chapters and pasting them down here. oof.) ;)**


	19. 18 - Lance

"No!" I'm playing Spit with Hunk. (He's our new roommate). And I _lost_.

I stand from the table and throw the cards into the air, chunk by chunk. I watch the flutter down onto a familiar black mulle-

"Lance!"

Oh.

"Sorry Keith!" I say sheepishly. I'm suddenly gripped with relief that I didn't accidentally yeet the entire stack at once. That probably would've given him a panic attack.

Keith stands up and begins to pick up the cards, handing them to me. "What even happened?"

Behind me, Hunk begins to chuckle softly. " _Well_..."

"What happened was-" I whip my head towards Hunk "-Hunk _cheated,_ "

Hunk lets out an exaggerated gasp. "I did no such thing!"

Keith smirks, looking between us. "You know, Lance, I'm pretty sure you're just not that good at Spit,"

Now it's my turn to mock being offended. "Oh please. I could beat you anytime,"

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"

"Hell yeah, I wanna bet. Dessert for the entire time both of us are here,"

Keith shakes his head. "I'm not betting food. You'll throw the game,"

I groan. He's right, of course, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. "How about we bet something else? Like...oh! The loser has to draw the winner a picture!"

Keith smiles at my excitement. "Alright. Sounds good,"

We sit at the table, and I start dealing out the cards. Once we each have half the deck, I show him how to set out the cards properly. He catches on pretty quickly.

Our game is set up. Time for the banter.

"You know, if you lose, there's no shame," I say a I being to flip my cards onto the ones sitting between us, "I mean, it's just a drawing,"

Keith laughs, flipping his cards just as fast as I am, like lightning. "Well, that's good for you to know. Since obviously I'm going to be the winner here,"

I shake my head, running out cards and immediately slapping the smaller pile...

...only to find Keith's hand already there. "Wh-Keith!" I say angrily.

"Oh?" he says innocently, "Did I do something?"

"You took my pile!"

He snorts. "Sucks for you, huh?"

I pout and glare at the table, taking the enormous pile next to his. We set out our cards and begin the next round. This time, I keep the banter to myself. Don't want to lose ag-

Fuck.

Keith hits the smaller pile again, leaving me with over half the deck of cards. I feel myself getting more and more frustrated. My moves begin to get reckless, missing the piles and sometimes getting stuck into the other pile. Keith hits the small pile again, leaving him with only about ten cards, and me with _literally all the rest_.

I feel myself resign to losing, trying to prepare my mask to go on once I lose. I need to be exaggerated, and use wide gestures, an-

"I win!" Keith stands, triumphant.

"Great job," I say monotonously, feeling Keith look at me confusedly.

"Y-you good?" he asks.

"I'm fine," I say. I'm already calming down from losing so harshly twice in a row. "Really, it's still a loss for you. I _suck_ at drawing,"

Keith chuckles, "I doubt you could be that bad,"

"Oh, I'm not that bad. I'm _worse_ ,"

"I'll frame your picture, so you can see how it looks," he responds with a half-smile.

"Lunchtime!" Marissa says from the doorway.

We all file out o the lounge, Hunk staying back. I wish I could stay with him. I just don't feel up to eating in a group today.

We get to the cafeteria, and I don't want a salad. I get in line with everyone else, seeing that there are tacos. I take the smallest looking one, sitting next to Keith and Allura. Marissa sits next to our table, near me. Unlike Diana, she simply makes sure that I get a little food.

The taste of the taco brings me back home. Surrounded by the voices of my family, friends, even the barking of the dog. It brings me comfort, for some reason. The taste of the spices, tastes a little like what my Mama would make when we'd have our annual family reunions. Suddenly, all I want to do is go home. I didn't ask to come here. I start eating quicker, desperate to go home. After all, didn't Diana say that the key to my discharge was eating?

The taco is gone very quickly, leaving me with shaky hands and a stomach ache. _Oh god,_ I think, _Oh no. No, no, no. Nonononononononononononononononononononononononono.._.

I feel like the string keeping me attached to the world has been cut, and now I'm just drifting. I let out absent sounds, like words that are abandoned halfway through being formed.

"M-mari-ss-s-s-s-sm-marissa," I try to say her name, but it doesn't work.

"Lance?" She asks. Guess she heard me say her name.

"I-i think I'm about to p-puke," I whisper, ashamed.

She offers up a hand, escorting me from the room and into a nearby bathroom. I immediately rush to the toilet, falling to my knees. My stomach empties itself into the toilet, and tears fall down m face. I'm sobbing and heaving over the toilet, feeling scared.

 _No, nono. NO! I'm supposed to be getting better! Why is this happening?_

Marissa kneels next to me, but I can't meet her eyes. I can't look at her if she's going to tell me she's about to take me away from Keith. From Pidge. From Allura, from Hunk, from the room with the stars.

"Lance," she says, "I need you to be honest about this. Did you make yourself puke on purpose?"

I shake my head. "N-no. I was jus-"

Marissa shushes me softly, a soothing hand making its way to my back. "It's okay. I think what happened is that you just ate too much. Your stomach isn't used to having that much food inside of it, so you threw up. You're okay. Do you want me to get Keith? I know you guys are good friends. I can send both of you up to the lounge or your room if you want,"

I sniffle and nod. "Please," my voice cracks on that single word, like I can't keep it together for even a second.

Marissa stands, taking me from the bathroom. "Wait here," she instructs, leaving me standing next to the hand sanitizer. She disappears into the cafeteria, appearing seconds later with a very worried looking Keith.

I immediately take him in a hug, shaking like crazy. God, he's warm. I could stay like this for forever.

"Lance, we have to go upstairs. We can talk when we get there, okay?"

I nod, allowing Keith and Marissa to take me upstairs. Keith says something to her before taking me into our room and sitting me on his bed.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

I look up. "I had a taco," I start, "And it...reminded me of home. You know, since we have tacos at our family reunions and my Mama makes really good ones. I...I miss them? And tasting the taco made me think of how much I want to see them. So I remembered that Diana said that eating more was the key to getting out of here and I ate the whole taco but I'm not used to eating so much at once, and I felt really sick and then panic set in because 'Oh god, I'm going to puke and never get out' and then I knew that I would either puke on the table or I could tell Marissa and she would take me to the bathroom and-"

I break off into tears, bawling into my hands. Keith places his hands on my shoulder, pulling me into his chest.

"It's okay. Marissa told me it was an accident,"

I look up. "Is she allowed to do that?"

Keith wipes a tear from my face. "She didn't tell me what happened. She literally just said 'Lance had an accident, would you feel comfortable going upstairs with him and talking for a little bit?' and when I said yes she took me to you,"

I nod slowly, registering his words. "Thank you," I say, hugging him again.

Keith smiles into my hair. "Anytime, Lance. Anytime,"

 **Yay! Another chapter done. I hope you guys liked this. I feel like I'm putting in a lot of fluff for a fic that focuses on people in a mental hospital, especially with Adashi and stuff. SO you get this. Yeah, there's fluff. But in my defense, I was listening to Dear Evan Hansen while I wrote this and that always puts me in a good mood. Anyhow, comment my mistakes. :)**


	20. 19 - Keith

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p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b4c09e894fa09baebed090c8ee4b2cb0""Keith?" He says, twirling my shirt in his fingers. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="627be750acd327793bc53cea24b6abd3""What is it buddy?" I say back, looking down at him. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="033554c4206c5c0016fde5535457ef44""Can...god this is awkward...I mean. If you don't mind could you...talk?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6425737f11edfcff5c18d415f8cc0c8f"Okay, now I'm confused. "Talk?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3a3ed392ff0e434abfa71e85a529bbdc"Lance nods. "Talk. Like how we do on the window sill,"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d96439bc1ac24ed641c7e8e5dfa7b6bb"Oh. "Yeah, I will. But...why?" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e045f48e7873c8b7653601d708220f88"Lance sniffles and shrugs. "I just feel like we're focusing on em style="box-sizing: border-box;"me/em too much right now, and you've had it worse. I wanna help," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="999ee92aae4a6285ced056f1b7f9903b"I chuckle sadly. "You can't fix me, you know," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d2ff552ef8aaafb464883585c839c189"Lance sits up and shakes his head. "That's not why I want you to tell me. I'm not trying to fix you, I'm trying to understand you," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ad1d9178c655896e831cf4216780a5ed"I take his hand, fiddling with his fingers like I normally do. "Okay..." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="651eb8628ae75bfbdd707a95ce686691"[Flashback]/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="26478db11a74b3c8675f463fee30cba7" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="40cc9f98f9e55a1997e16bc5054b1cbb"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I'm sitting on the roof, next to my only friend. His name is Jerry. He's the one who got me into weed in the first place. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6022609f77136f9ba679b3c000b90c55"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Do you ever think about jumping?" I ask, looking at the ground below. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="148ee1f20b736dc32d31cfe572fa4444"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Jerry laughs. "Not really, no. Why?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="aa4929f4735a6e431f5dda3b51da2a74"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I shrug, feeling a little silly for asking. Why would he, anyway? Jerry might not have a perfect life, but he's definitely happy where he is. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0e1f4211dd27a99eb3ff493d58c4e205"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""Why would you, specifically, want to jump? Doesn't matter how bad shit gets, you can always jerk off to your hot mom or something," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a733b6fb320158c56bbb69d0ff2d1676"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I tense up. "What," I seethe, "the span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"fuck/span did you just say? First of all, I'm gay as hell. So that ugly ass whore doesn't have span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"any/span appeal to me, understand? Not only that, but do you know what she and her stupid fucking husband do to me every night? No. And I'm not fucking telling you either, Okay? So shut the fuck up about my 'hot mom' when you don't know what I would give to get away from her!" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4c8d7861e49abd8bec4a3f4911ba56d5"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I stand, kicking a rock off the roof, and climb down. I hear Jerry do the same, and we both slide into my room via my window. Jerry just picks up his stuff and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I pace around my room, anger clouding my vision. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a3f1faacba3c3f5852d9105b52297d40"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I let out an enraged scream, kicking one of my books across the room. span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"Why/span does this have to happen to me and span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"why/span can't I be normal and-/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f448363809683eb6274aeb0ef8c24761"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I ram my fist into the wall, leaving a hole in the plaster. I pull my hand out, seeing the redness of my knuckles. I hit the wall again and again, imagining it's Shelby. Because she deserves it, you know? She and Carl and span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"stupid/span Jerry all fucking deserve to be punched. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a89b3d2f5cf4276b69bad22c34e3fe46"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"My door flies open, and all my anger is replaced with mind-numbing fear. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="578cdf850f41743751448ab6b0a820ac"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Carl stomps in. "Oh, was that your friend who just ran out of here?" /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="685f4f56d718c1b6a2206f23a95cbf4d"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I nod shakily, pressing myself up against the wall and wishing I could be anywhere else right now. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="46a4363eedbe5e9d8e9a3f36bbe8ede4"em style="box-sizing: border-box;""You're not allowed to see him anymore," Carl sneers, "you're for me and my eyes only," /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9a88ea861a751cc75e56a3d5db8ecbbc"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"With that, he growls and takes a step forward, then another, then another, until he's right in front of me. He places his hands on either side of my body and forcibly turns me around. I bite back a scream as he presses his body against me, biting the back of my neck. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="68a2d123008a344528944413ab84300a"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I can feel his hard-on through his pants, and I want to scream. So I do, in the hopes of getting someone to come to the door and just span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"stopping him/span. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="686bf82b66078c8c48540eeb3e58515a"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Nobody does, and before I know it, I'm on the ground, sobbing and naked. Carl leaves after knowing what he's done to me. I try to stand, but the pain is too much. I curl up and blindly reach out, attempting to grab some clothes in case Shelby comes in and decides to follow Carl's example. /em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3c32b10aa4e277f536e1a3556e187b86"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Just my luck, that as I get onto my hands and knees, both of them show up with a whip./em /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="cfe201de5943405c840233fec4378a45" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="9a3584ae66e225dc00be164fc95cf07a""Keith," Lance whispers. Tears roll down my cheeks, as I remember what those monsters did to me. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8045db277deb1786b50213ccc5a49d4a""A-and they wouldn't let me take showers after they did that, s-so I always felt dirty and used. And they did it for so long and I was always so, so scared." I sob into my hands, leeting go of Lance's fingers. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4ab1529808587432c8ef0a83ab465ef3"I feel a hand fall over my own, gently pulling them away from my face. "Don't cover your mouth," Lance says kindly, "you need to be able to breathe," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="fdd05d282fa870e5c33143e59fff82ca"I nod, clutching his hands in mine. "I just wish I'd done the dishes and that I'd cut everyone off and that I'd never left my door unlocked and that I'd gone to school on time and that I'd never watched that movie and th-" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="644b32edce1328e0e318c5d2fb6231d5"Lance cuts me off with a slender finger barely pressing against my lips. "Hey, look at me. I promise that I'm gonna keep them away from you, okay? I'm gonna keep you safe. I swear," /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="69a2400d1257d03ae2c0a94a01824b11"I whimper, not out of fear, but because I don't want to cry again. It's a weak attempt, but what he said really moves me. Tears leak from my eyes, making their way down my face as I try furiously to wipe them from my cheeks. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ef16fd3b715be5f717c2732b71fc2258""I promise..." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b7d02b64f9e47354bf0b62bf4c2cd954" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="714e797025a55e6b0e4a0fb86b5af67a" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0c3a285fbdc6329b1e5fcdd1262e0695"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"Okay, this chapter is way overdue. You see, I was gonna make it a Pidge POV but I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go with it. So like...two hours ago I opened up my laptop, deleted everything I had, and wrote this short chapter for the New Year. As usual, feel free to comment all of my mistakes. Bye!/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f38f085c1b938f2edbdd66de2f73e709" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="1f7cdf788f714778039f9e6c4f71a6a1" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="fd28fa46e51d32fdcf8be80b3f7acb6b" /p 


	21. 20 - Shiro

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand we're back! It took me a while to update, so we're getting some Shiro lovin' since we haven't been in his POV for a lil while. I hope everyone had a good New Year! I also noticed that I haven't been putting the songs in each chapter like I normally do, so tell me: would you rather me put just a sad song at the beginning of each chapter, or have a song that applies to what's in the chapter but not on each one? Let me know because I'm 100% torn. Anywho, on with the story!

"So I'm _not_ returning to school?"

I'm sitting with Sophie and Greg in the living room, discussing my transition from the hospital. They have papers from my therapist sitting on the coffee table between my chair and the sofa they're sitting on.

"No, you _are_ , but only for about a week and a half. Then you're going to a post-hospitalization program and being homeschooled for a little bit. After you've gone through sufficient treatment, we're gonna see if you're ready to return to school physically. You already missed a lot of the quarter, but it's only the first semester," Sophie says.

I nod slowly. "So...what happens if I spend the rest of the school year in treatment? Will I not graduate?"

Greg shakes his head. "Since you'll be homeschooled, you're still going to get your classwork done. So, yeah, you're gonna graduate,"

"And, Shiro, sweetie, you're not going to be in treatment the whole year. You have over half of it left! You only missed...three weeks. That's less than you'd miss if you had mono, or whatever," Sophie adds with a supportive smile.

"That's a lot of school! God, I'm probably failing _everything_ and they're not gonna give me enough time to finish it and then I'm not gonna graduate because I saved my stupid music class that I have to take for this year and-"

"Sweetie," Sophie says softly, placing a gentle hand on my knee, "You're going to be fine,"

"But...what if I fail everything?" I ask. I'm sure I sound pathetic.

"What if you _don't_?" Greg says.

I sigh and shrug. "So, come Monday - which is _tomorrow_ \- I'm going back to school?"

They share a glance and nod. "I know it's not ideal, but you're gonna be able to make it. Adam said he can drive you there so you don't have to take the bus, and he'll pick you up to. Doesn't that sound nice?" Sophie says perkily.

Ah, the ever-famous 'doesn't that sound nice' quote, straight from every cliche supportive mother's mouth.

"Sounds great," I sigh.

With that, I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. Adam is inside, vigorously taking down notes from a YouTube video. He looks up when I walk in.

"I take it you're going back t school tomorrow?" He asks kindly, pausing the video and turning his full attention towards me.

I nod, already feeling the stress making my heart pang. "Yeah," I croak out. As much as I'm trying to to let this bother me, it's really putting me on edge.

Adam sets his notebook aside and walks over to me, sitting me down on the bed. "You can make it through a week and a half, you know. You already made it through twelve years, including kindergarten,"

"I guess," I mumble. I take my hands from my lap and run them through my hair, a telltale sign of stress.

"Hey." Adam pulls my hands and holds them his his (slightly smaller) hands. "You're gonna be okay. And if you aren't, I can pick you up and we can talk about it, okay? I-look at me,"

I shift my gaze up from my shoes and meet his beautiful forest green eyes.

"The counselor is going to give you a special pass that you can show to your teachers whenever you just need to...get away. Get some fresh air, whatever. It'll mean you can go straight to the counselors office and sit there for a little bit - you don't even have to talk about what happens if you don't want to. And if your bad thoughts come in and you can't fight them, just call me and I'll pick you up. Remember, you can _always_ call me and I will _always_ come pick you up. Okay?" Adam presses his lips to my knuckles.

I shake my head, trying to force myself not to cry out of fear of the stress. I don't want to get overwhelmed again. I don't want to have to leave everyone again, and have to have those phone calls again.

[Flashback]

 _The phone rings. And keeps ringing. I find myself wondering if he'll even bother to pick up. Tears already fill my eyes, just as they have for the last few hours. I'm sitting in my pajamas, since that's what I was taken to the ER in. They consist of a pair of sweatpants with the nae f my school down the side of the left leg, and a purple sweatshirt that Adam got made for me when I turned fifteen._

 _I take a deep breath, ready to hear the beep and a robotic lady telling me that he's not available. Suddenly -_

 _"Hello?"_

 _I choke out a sob, letting his name out brokenly. "Adam," I croak._

 _"I-Takashi? What's wrong? Whose phone are you calling from?" He asks from the other end of the phone._

 _"Th-the hospital's..." I whisper, feeling hot tears cascade down my cheeks._

 _"The hospital's phone? Takashi, what happened?" Worry laces his voice, and I can imagine his eyebrows furrowing in worry._

 _"D-do you remember when I told you I didn't care anymore? That I didn't want you in my life? That we should leave that part of our relationship behind and forget about each other?" I cry._

 _"Yeah, but...Takashi what happened? You sound hysterical,"_

 _I let out a few more sobs and try to get enough breath to tell him. "I-I didn't mean those things. I didn't. I didn't I swear. I'm so sorry I ever said them I just...I didn't want to hurt you," I trail off, my voice growing small._

 _"You didn't want to hurt me? Takashi this isn't like you. Are you in trouble? Do you need me to come pick you up?"_

 _I shake my head. Then, remembering he can't see me, I say, "I wish you could,"_

 _"Okay, you're scaring me now. Please, Takashi. Where are you?"_

 _I choke out a sob. "I'm in the hospital,"_

 _"Takaski..." Adam says gently._

 _"I-I tried to kill myself. That's why I wanted you to forget about me. Because I didn't want to hurt you by leaving forever while we were together. I wanted you to remember me as the jerk who used you and then disappeared, rather than the boy you gave the world to who threw it away,"_

 _"I could never hate you, you know that right? Even if you did break my heart - which is exactly what happened - i'd still mourn and cry until I couldn't breathe. We've been together for years, Takashi. Did you really think you could make it all disappear in one go?"_

 _"No," I sob into the phone. Out of the corner of my eye I can see some of the other patients looking at me sympathetically, but without judgement._

 _"Oh my god. Oh. My. God. Takashi, listen to me, I'm only saying this once, I know now you didn't want to say those things. You just wanted me to get away before you hurt me. I-" Adam breaks down into tears on the other end of the phone, I can tell._

 _"Ad-Adam! I'm-please - I'm so sorry!"_

 _"You don't need to be sorry! It isn't your fault that you have depression? It isn't your fault!" he cries._

 _"I know..." I sniffle, calming down a little bit._

 _"Are you going to be okay while you're in there?"_

 _"Yeah," I murmur._

 _"Can I come visit?" he asks._

 _"No, I don't think you can,"_

 _"I'm scared for you, by the way. I don't think I've cried this hard in years,"_

 _"I know babe...s-sorry,"_

 _"Babe? I'm down for that. I guess...you never officially told me we were breaking up,"_

 _"I just wish I had talked to you before...I...b-"_

 _"I wish that too, I wish that I'd seen it! God, what kind of boyfriend am I? And now I'm making this about myself!"_

 _"It's okay," I say soothingly, "shhh, don't blame yourself,"_

 _Adam sounds like he's slowly becoming more calm. "I...I have to go and cry for a little bit. And not over the phone. Just some good old fashioned bawling. It's not your fault, I've been needing to do it for a while now. I love you,"_

 _"I love you too,"_

 _"Bye,"_

"What're you thinking about?"

Adam's voice startles me from my thoughts.

"Our phone calls. Well, our first one anyway,"

Adam wraps his arm around me, kissing along my jawbone. "That was a pretty scary phone call," he says.

I nod in agreement, closing my eyes. The kisses slowly move up from my jaw, his lips trailing along my cheeks, kissing up the tear tracks.

"Boop," Adam says, kissing the tip of my nose.

I blush softly, opening my eyes to meet his.

"You're just gonna have to take this head-on. Really, you probably can't prepare in this little time. Don't even really try, you'll stress yourself out. But what you _can_ do is cuddle with me and help me procrastinate doing my work~" Adam says cheekily.

I hum, letting him kiss all over my face. Outside, the sun has mostly gone down, leaving nothing but a slight pinky-red hue at the bottom of a deep blue, freckled with stars.

"I'd like that, I think," I say. I take Adam's chin and lean in, pulling my lips up at the last minute and kissing his forehead.

"Tease," he grumbles. I fluff his hair, and he takes the chance to squeeze me tightly in a huge hug.

I let out a small grunt, and a strained chuckle. "Babe, I need to breathe,"

"Hmmmmm, No. Kiss me and I'll consider it,"

I lift his chin again and press a chaste kiss to his lips. He whines when I pull away, yanking me down to his lips again.

I giggle into the kiss, lying down and letting him kiss me softly until I fall asleep.

But even with all of the reassurance and love, I still feel that ball on anxiety sitting in my stomach.

Why can't I seem to get rid of it?

Welp, there ya go. This one is...less than a day after. Which I guess is sort of normal. ALSO this is the longest story I've ever written, which says something about me. SOmething that nobody will say aloud. Ahem. Anyway, comment my mistakes. Bye!

P.S. if you check Pidge's lil flashback in their chapter, the conversation matches up with the one in this chapter.


	22. 21 - Pidge

Keith and Lance walk out about ten minutes after everyone else has come upstairs. Lance's eyes are puffy and red, alerting anyone who cares to look that he's been crying. Keith looks like he's been crying too, but less.

"You guys good?" I ask across the room. Keith looks at Lance and gives me a tired thumbs-up. I return the gesture, going back to turning the TV on and trying to turn on a Vine compilation on YouTube. It takes a little while to type it all in, since I only have a television remote.

"Pidge, what are you trying to do?" Marissa asks, walking over to me.

"I'm trying to put on some _fucking_ Vines. But this stupid remote won't _work_!"

Marissa takes it gently from my fingers and expertly maneuvers through the maze of letters to type in _clean vines_. "Here, choose one. Just make sure that it goes off when the new nurse gets here,"

"The one replacing Diana?"

Marissa smiles. "That would be the one. Her name's Cathryn, and she seems very nice,"

Hunk sits next to us. "Who's Diana?"

Marissa sees the look on my face, one of pure disgust and determination to tell Hunk the horrible things Diana did, and laughs a little bit. She sets the remote down, walking to her chair in the corner.

"Well, Diana was the worst person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. She was _such_ a bitch. In fact-Hey Keith! Lance! C'mon over here and tell Hunk how bad Diana was!"

The two boys, who have been shuffling cards since they came in, look up. They both walk over, like the conjoined twins they apparently are, and sit in chairs next to us, dragging them to form a little circle.

"Diana drowned my food in ketchup and threatened to have me moved to the Eating Disorder Wing when I asked if I could eat a salad instead. I don't think I ever felt more like making myself vomit than when she was making me eat," Lance says, looking at his lap.

Keith pats Lance's knee, saying "She was really homophobic and shit like that. One time, Lance was holding my hand because we'd had a talk and I mess with his fingers when I talk about things that make me uncomfortable, and she _burst the fuck in_ and started yelling. And then she physically ripped my hand from Lance's!"

As he spoke, Keith absentmindedly took Lance's fingers and played with them, tapping them and crossing them.

"She sounds horrible," Hunk says, eyes wide. "How did she even become a nurse if she's so ignorant?"

A chorus of "I don't know!"'s came from the entire group. We laugh at our synchronization.

"I'm glad she left. Marissa lets me eat salads instead of other stuff, and she's not putting me in the Eating Disorder Wing even though I puked earlier," Lance says the last part in a small voice, curling in on himself.

"That sucks, buddy," Hunk replies, putting a large hand on Lance's bony shoulder.

"Can y'all turn that off? It's time for art therapy," a voice says from behind us. We all turn to find a tall, slender girl with bright red hair and forest green hair.

"My name's Cathryn, nice to meet you. I'll be showing you guys how to make inspiring collages! So, just sit around this table, which most of you already are, and we can start with an icebreaker," she says with a smile.

We sit, Allura joining us from where she'd been reading a book. We gather around the table, all a bit nervous to see what this icebreaker will be. Diana once attempted to make us all tell what we were admitted for, and only stopped when everyone left the group.

"So, just go around the circle and say your name, I guess. And then our icebreaker can be your favorite memory, if you're comfortable. If not, just say something about yourself," Cathryn says. The group exhales collectively, relieved.

"I'll start," Allura says, "My name is Allura, and my favorite memory is probably the time I went to Disney with my father, and he took me on the Tower of Terror. I held his hand so tightly the entire time, but I wasn't scared when the ride actually started. I was only afraid of the dark," she finishes with a fond, sad smile at her hands, which rest in her lap.

"Thank you for sharing," Cathryn says. She turns to me. "And you, ma'am?"

I stiffen. "I'm not a 'ma'am'. Not right now, at least." I hold up my wrist, revealing my blue hairband. "I'm a dude. He/him. Anyway, my name's Katie on your paper, but I go by Pidge. 'Cause that's what my brother calls me. My favorite memory is when my brother took me out shopping to find me some gender-neutral clothes after I had yet another mental breakdown about kids at school not using the correct pronouns. He's awesome,"

"I'm so sorry, Pidge. I shouldn't have assumed. Your brother sounds amazing. Thank you for sharing," Cathryn says. Her apology seems pretty genuine. "How about you?" She directs the question to Hunk, who's sitting next to me.

"Oh, uh...well..." Hunk blushes a little bit, smiling sheepishly. "I'm Hunk. And...uh...you said we don't have to share our memories? Okay. Uh, my favorite _color_ is yellow. So. Yeah." He lowers his head, averting his eyes. I pat his back softly.

"Thank you for sharing. Yellow is a very pretty color." Cathryn smiles, turning to Lance, who is practically clutching Keith. "What about you?"

Lance pales, looking _terrified_ of saying something. "C-can I not go? I do-don't want to, um, t-alk-talk m-much?" Cathryn nods sympathetically. "I'm Lance," he rushes out, closing his eyes and blowing out his breath, puffing his cheeks.

Keith whispers something in his ear. I roll my eyes. _Morons. Gay-as-fuck morons. And also endgame._

Keith starts talking without giving Cathryn a chance to say something. "My name's Keith, and my favorite memory hasn't happened. All mine suck. So, uh, yeah. My favorite color is either red or black, since you want a fact or whatever,"

Cathryn smiles and thanks him and Lance at the same time, since she hadn't thanked him before. "Let's get started on these collages. Now, I know I said that they were going to be inspirational, but you can choose whatever theme you'd like. Even if you just put the word 'cabbage' on a purple background. What's art is art, even if it doesn't turn out how you expected. Here are some magazines and papers. If you want Mod Podge or some scissors, come ask me. Onward to your art!"

Keith immediately goes for the black construction and a white colored pencil. He looks at Lance as he draws on the paper. Lance himself is expertly attaching a picture of a watermelon to the head of a model on a piece of pink paper. He draws a small smiley face on the melon, smiling as he does so.

Hunk simply decides to paste some letters onto a piece of yellow hair. _H_ _U_ N K

I decide to paste the word _nothing_ onto a piece of white paper. It sort of represents how I feel. Like a vacant shadow of who I used to be.

I only hope I can get better.

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY! I sort of got caught up with the rewrite and stuff, but I still like this story and I'm going to find a way to update both of them in a timely manner. NAyway, thanks for waiting. Love ya!


	23. 22 - Adam

**Don't worry, I'm not gonna keep writing Adashi when this isn't all about them. This is just an idea I've had for a while now, and I wanted to write it before I forget about it, you know? Okay, let's go.**

The words on this page are all blurring together, losing what little coherency they had. I close my eyes tightly, clenching my fists and tensing my entire body. I exhale shakily, slowly, opening my eyes as I go. Takashi just got home from school, I heard him shut the front door. He texted me for most of the day, mostly complaining that he was stuck in the counseling office all day.

The door opens, and Takashi walks in. He looks _really good_. I haven't seen him in casual clothes for a little while, since we broke up and then he went to the hospital. He's wearing a grey pair of jeans and a maroon sweatshirt.

"How's it going?" He asks, dropping his backpack and sitting next to me. "This looks boring...are you even reading it?"

I throw the book down onto the ground and cover my face. "No! And I know that I need to if I want to do well, and it's just so _stupid_!" I half-yell, half groan.

"Oh," Takashi mumbles, "well, do you want-"

"I don't know what I want!" I shout, standing up. "I. Don't. Know. I don't even know if I want to _do_ this anymore! I just-" I lower myself onto the bed, anger drained out of me. "I just want it to _stop_ for a second. Everything keeps moving so fast and I can't keep up and I'm _so scared_ of what might happen if I don't do this right. I-" I break off into tears.

"I just want to do _something_. But I also _don't_. I don't want to sleep, I don't want to go running, I don't want to have a snack, I don't want a smoothie or anything. But I want to do _something_ and it's _stupid_ because I feel like I'm physically not able to get myself off this bed. And I just - what is _happening_?" I cry, running my hands through my hair in distress.

"That...sounds an awful lot like depression, Adam. Do you feel like that a lot?" Takashi asks, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrug. "I'm not depressed, though. I don't have any _reason_ to be,"

"You don't have any reason? Adam, you don't need one. Even the straight-A captain of the football team with a perfect life can cry himself to sleep every night and want to end his life. Mental illness doesn't care about your circumstances. It's just _there_." he shifts so he's hugging me from the side, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

"Bu-but I just feel _bad. You're_ the one who went to a hospital. I shouldn't be burdening you with this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I-" I let out a dry sob. "I'm _sorry_. I'm just stressed and sleep deprived,"

Takashi pulls me into his chest. "You're okay, you hear me? You're gonna be fine. Look, I know _you_ probably don't think that you need help right now, but I'm going to tell you that you do. At the very least, some sleep pills. You know, if it's what _you_ say you have. I'm gonna check with my therapist and see if she can get an appointment with you too. Sound good?"

"No, Takashi. I'm really sorry, but I don't need help. I don't want you to have to pay money because I don't get enough sleep, okay? Just...let it be." I pull out of the hug, avoiding Takashi's eyes. I don't want to see the hurt lying there.

"Adam..." Takashi sounds like he's on the verge of tears. "Adam, please. You've done so much for me. I just want to do this one thing for you,"

I stand, ready to leave. As soon as I do, black spots cloud my vision. They disperse quickly. I turn to look at Takashi. The look on his face...

...it breaks me.

I fall to my knees, sobbing and apologizing. My breaths come in short bursts, tears cascading down my face. I let out a frustrated scream into my hands, sobbing harder. "I'm so-s-so-ss-s-so sorry!" I weep into my hands. "I sho-s-sho-sh-sh-shs-h-s-hou-shouldn-t be b-l-am-ing y-ou,"

Takashi kneels down in front of me. "We can get through this," he says, "Look at me, Adam." He takes my hands off my face and lifts my head so I meet his eyes. "You're gonna be okay. Just because I have depression doesn't mean you can't too. I'll make sure you're okay, and you'll make sure I am too. Okay?"

I nod, throwing myself into his arms. I cry into his shoulder, letting out all the stress and pent-up feelings from the past couple days. My fingers grip the back of his shirt tightly, as if he's the last thing keeping me on Earth.

The door opens, but I stay with my face hidden in Takashi's shoulder. My grip tightens. My shoulders shake with each sob that racks my body. I make sounds as I cry - whimpers and little whiny groans - but they're muffled by his body.

"Is now a bad time?" I hear Sophie's soft voice from the doorway.

"Yeah. I'll come down later, okay?" Takashi replies. His speaking causes his chest to vibrate and I can feel it against mine.

Sophie says something else and closes the door. I just keep crying. I've calmed down a little, but I'm still far from being done. I pull away and look Takashi in his worried eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say.

He smiles sadly and says "For what? You haven't done anything wrong,"

"Well, I sort of was rude when you offered to help," I whisper, looking down.

Takashi shakes his head, pulling me forward by my thighs and setting me on his lap. "It's okay. Look, you were stressed. I get it. I'm not mad. A little hurt, sure, but I think that you're more hurt right now," He says.

I whimper, feeling completely drained. Crying takes a lot out of someone! I lean forward and close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm here,"

 **Welp, here ya go. Hope you enjoyed this! Comment my mistakes, and stuff. Lots of love my dudes!**


	24. 23 - Keith

**Hey guys! It's been a little while.**

I've never been downstairs before.

Well, not at the hospital, at least. I've been down plenty of stairs.

Actually, meals.

Okay, let me rephrase: I've never been to the hospital computer lab before. It's downstairs, so that's where the confusion came from. Anyway, since today is the first day I'm allowed to go, I'm mixed between excited and nervous. According to Lance, the computer lab isn't as bad as I think. It's just computers along the outside of the room. In the middle, desks.

Speaking of Lance, he's standing right next to me as we go down the elevator. Pidge is telling Allura and Hunk all about what's happening in the lab - new computers, card games, the comfiest seats. Marissa just stands at the elevator doors, watching us to make sure nothing happens.

Now, after everything that Shelby and Carl did, I think the one experience that gives me the most "triggers" has got to be the time they locked me in a closet and promised to come back later. I was in there for about three days, getting a half a cup of...something a day. Throughout these days, Shelby and Carl would come in and do stuff to me every couple hours.

God, it hurt. I had an ache in my head, my stomach, my legs. Pretty much every place you can imagine one would hurt after something like that had happened. I close my eyes and shiver, remembering the suffocating feeling of the darkness.

I reach out and take Lance's sleeve, sliding my fingers down his arm to his hand. Then, I hold on for dear life. I close my eyes and try to breathe calmly, trying not to let the imposing fear of small spaces set in. Lance keeps our hands together, rubbing his thumb across mine.

"Keith?" He whispers. I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my neck. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get Marissa?"

I shake my head an crack one eyes open. "No...I'm fine. How much longer is this going to take?"

Not very long, apparently, since the elevator dings as it stops. We file out, and I drop Lance's hand. I walk next to him, following the train of people who are going to the lab.

When we get there, it's pretty much exactly as I imagined. Each person has to take a pair of headphones and use hand sanitizer before we use the computers. Lance and I sit next to each other, and he shows me how to print things.

"We aren't allowed to print color," he explains, "but we can print out coloring pages. There are colored pencils and markers and stuff upstairs,"

I nod in thanks, pulling up the writing program they have on the computers. _What to write about_...

I sigh and rub my eyes out of frustration. I can't think of anything to write about, but there's nothing to do besides that. I mean, there's the Internet I could use. Lance is on CoolMathGames, or whatever, and listening to YouTube. But I'm just getting an overwhelming amount of anxiety thinking about what I might find. I can't even think of a good reason not to, I just don't want to

I decide to write what's on my mind. Not what I'm actively thinking about, just something that I think about often.

 _Okay, I give up. Ugh, no. I can't. Not yet, at least. I think I should write about some things I feel guilty for, though._

 _First, I'm sorry to Lance. He doesn't deserve to have to deal with my stupid fucking emotional baggage. I know he says he doesn't mind, but he's in here for a reason. We all are, but I just keep forgetting that because I'm so self centered. So, I'm sorry, Lance._

 _Next, to Allura. I'm sorry I never really got to know you, and that I'm too socially awkward and afraid of rejection to try. I know you have stuff to work out, and I hope you make a full recovery. You seem really nice. Sorry I might ruin you._

 _Pidge. Darling, evil Pidge. I'm sorry for being a nuisance. I know you're young, but you've been through so much. You're the strongest girl I know. The strongest guy I know. You're the strongest person I've met in a long time. I hope you know that. No matter what your pronouns are, I'm still proud to be your friend._

 _Hunk, I know I don't know you all that well, but I think we had a shot. I think that you're really really nice and I think you don't deserve what you got. You got dealt a shitty hand and it isn't fair. I hope you get better and that you can live to see all your dreams come true._

 _So, yeah. I'm sorry._

 _-Keith_

I look over what I've written. It reads like a suicide note. I exhale shakily. Why did I write this? I mean, I'm not suicidal...right now. I just really want to apologize to these wonderful people whose lives I'm tainting just by existing. That's all.

I hit the print button, standing up and snatching the paper off the printer as quickly as I can before tucking it away into my pocket. Lance looks at me with curious eyes.

"What'd you write?" He asks. "Was it a story?"

I shake my head, a familiar feeling bubbling up in my stomach as it flips. What if he finds out? "It's a letter," _shit._ I bite my lip and turn back to my computer, hopefully showing Lance that I don't want to talk right now.

I start typing again.

 _Blood,  
Dripping slow as honey.  
Life,  
Seeping from the cracks.  
Breaths,  
Coming less and less.  
All at once,  
Overwhelming,  
And finally,  
Gone. _

I sit back with a sigh, resigning myself to the fate of writing depressing poems. Let's fucking go, depression.

 _You know,  
Life is like a cliff,  
You can't see the end,  
But you know it's there.  
The wind is icy metal,  
Slicing your skin,  
and letting little red rivers flow.  
And those red rivers meet,  
And those red rivers form a lake.  
That lake becomes more like,  
But you have to start all over again. _

_Funny how you live once,  
But the whole thing is slow.  
A billion hours could pass,  
A lifetime would end,  
It wouldn't matter.  
Because it's just a fleeting moment in time. _

_Forget you  
Forgetting me.  
Messy,  
Torn,  
Sad.  
I'm too far gone.  
Goodbye. _

_I am bleeding.  
Nobody can see it,  
But it's there.  
Drenching me,  
Covering me,  
Suffocating me  
In blood.  
In sorrow.  
In Me.  
And it won't stop.  
And it won't leave.  
So I must go.  
I leave only one message:  
Save me from myself. _

I sigh and sit back in my chair, hitting the print button. Once again, I race to the printer to grab my poetry. I take it back to my seat and, in a split second decision that I don't even remember making, set it in front of Lance. He takes his headphones off and turns to look at me.

"Are you sure? This isn't something I have to read. It's your own, private writing," he says calmly.

"Just read it. Don't ask again, I might change my mind," I say, sounding a bit strangled. He smiles reassuringly at me before turning his gaze to the paper in front of him. I follow his expressions, trying to map out his reactions to certain words or phrases. Eventually, I give up on trying to crack the code and sit staring at my computer.

"Keith..." he mumbles softly. He looks at me. "These are really good. But...do you need to talk? Because, we haven't had a windowsill chat in a little while,"

I shrug. "I don't really have much to talk about. I don't know how I wrote those, I don't feel especially sad right now,"

Lance sighs. "Sometimes, it's not about whether or not you can feel it. It's about...maybe you always feel sad. Maybe you've just gotten used to it, and you only notice when you feel really bad, you know?"

I nod. "That's...a pretty good theory. We can talk about it tonight. On the windowsill,"

Lance smiles. "See you at the window,"

"See you at the window,"

 **How did you guys like this chapter? I wrote the poems a while ago, and they sort of suck. (Read: REALLY SUCK) But I thought Keith should have a little moment all in his head, getting it out on paper. I don't think this really qualifies as exceptionally angsty, or fluffy, or anything. I just wanted Keith the say what he needs to say. Anyway, comment your thought, you know the drill. Bye!**


	25. NOT A CHAPTER, BUT AN APOLOGY

**Hey guys. This isn't a chapter, but I know that I keep messing up. I keep putting these in code, and ten you guys can't read them. It probably has something to do with the fact that I'm taking them directly off Wattpad and pasting them here, so...**

 **yeah.**

 **Anyway, if I do it again and you notice, please just comment it and I'll repost it with actual legible words. OH, and be nice about it. Just a little "thIS IS IN CODE CAN YA FIX IT MY DUDE" works. haha.**

 **Anyway, both stories are coming along and the next chapter for this should be up in the next few days. THanks for putting up with my mistakes and crap. BYE!**


	26. 24 - Keith's Flashback pt 2

**This whole chapter will be a flashback, that's why I wrote it in italics my dudes. Basically, Keith and Lance are sitting on the window sill, talking, and Lance asks Keith to tell him something. Give him some context so he can understand why the poems are written like a suicide note. Also, this is late. Sorry. I have finals in every class coming up in a little while and I'm sooo worried about failing. Especially physics and Spanish. So, if I just don't update until like...February, it's because I have finals for the next two weeks. Love ya!**

[Flashback]

 _"Look, I'm not saying he's your only friend. But he's your only friend. You should go. C'mon, it'll be fun. Booze and hot chicks and, hey, we could always try and get you hooked on something new,"_

 _I groan and cover my face. "Nadya..."_

 _She looks at me as if to say 'get to the fucking party or I swear to God you will end up dead in my trunk'_

 _Not that I'd mind that._

 _Nadya doesn't know what's happening with me, just that I've got some messed-up shit. That's more than Jerry, the only dude who's ever paid me any attention, knows. Do I feel bad? No. Jerry's too stoned to actually register how serious my shit is. So, he's in the dark._

 _"Fine. I'll go." I grumble reluctantly. Nadya laughs and hugs me tight. "But-" I hold up a finger "-I want more of those pills,"_

 _Nadya looks at me, eyes wide. "Dude, those were my_ _ **mother's**_ _. If I take them again, she'll beat my ass!"_

 _"You really wanna talk about getting beat?"_

 _Nadya rolls her eyes. "No. But you're not getting any more. I don't know how to get them, other than to, like, get diagnosed with whatever the fuck my mom has. Go get your own fucking drugs,"_

 _I glare at her. "Look, Those pills are literally the only fucking reason I got through the last month and a half. Get me something fucking strong and we can see about me going to the party,"_

 _Nadya glares, opening her locker and handing me what appears to be a pack of cigarettes, unopened. Fuck yes._

 _"I'm taking all of them,"_

 _"I fucking hate you."_

 _"Whatever," the bell rings overhead. Even if I'm barely able to stand it, I have to go to class. "Bye,"_

 _"Wh-Keith! Get back here you fucking asshole!"_

 _I turn and flip her off, tucking my cigarettes into my backpack. "Later, whore!"_

 _I laugh as I sprint to class, barely out of breath when I stay outside the classroom a couple seconds so I don't have to be in there before absolutely necessary. The late bell rings, and I laugh, walking away from the classroom and to the boy's bathroom near it._

 _I slip inside, checking under the stalls to make sure nobody's in here. Can't have anyone snitching on me._

 _Once I see the coast is clear, I fish the cigarettes out of my backpack pocket, along with the lighter I may or may not own and take to school. I check around before lighting it._

 _I close my eyes, taking a loooooooong drag, trying to let the nicotine delete my memories from my mind._

 _"What are you doing?"_

 _I crack my eyes open and see someone standing in front of me. He has a round face, and stares up at me with big, innocent blue eyes._

 _I realize suddenly that he's a freshman._

 _"None of your fucking business," I hiss, biting back an insult about his weight._

 _"You shouldn't do that, ya know. It's bad for your lungs. The nicotine and the tar and stuff. Our Health teacher taught us all about it! Say, did you ever take Health? Maybe that's why you're doing stuff like an idiot. You don't know any better! But don't worry, I can teach you," the kid blabbers on and on, his greasy blond hair reaching his shoulders and smelling like old fish._

 _"Look, fatass," I snap. "Stop fucking meddling. You better get the hell out of here and get your shit together, okay? If I ever see you again, I'll fucking ruin the next four years you have here. You'll already smell like smoke, all they need is a witness,"_

 _The kid looks like he's scared for his life when he all but sprints out of the room. I glare at the ground. He'd made me do the one thing I swore never to do: bully._

 _"FUCK!" I shout, punching the wall. I leave a crack in the gross blue tile on the walls, and a cut on my knuckles. It gives me an idea. "What-fucking-ever," I spit._

 _I go into one of the two stalls, lighting the lighter again. I bring it close to my arm, wincing when it hurts. No, no. I deserve this._

 _The flame grows closer to my arm, hungrily licking at the bare skin there. When they meet, pain shoots up my arm, causing me to cry out. I bite my lip and stare intently at the place I'm ruining, forever marking my skin with proof of my self-hatred._

 _All at once, it's over. My finger traces around the sensitive, reddened skin that surrounds the burn. Of course, there isn't any blood. Since I used fire._

 _I check my phone, seeing that I'm already fifteen minutes past the beginning of class. Fashionably late. I look once more at my burn before pulling my sleeve down over it with a hiss of pain._

 _I don't remember the cigarette that I stomp onto my shoe as I leave the room._

 _When I get to the classroom, I look like shit. My hair is weird and puffy, and I smell like smoke. Not to mention how I'm holding my arm. I walk into the classroom._

 _"Mr. Kogane," Ms. Parks says, "you're late. Got a pass?"_

 _"Got a pass?" I mimic in a high voice._

 _"Okay. Detention. Now sit, and-what's that on your shoe?"_

 _I don't even look down, anxiety bubbling up in my chest. I can feel my face heating up from embarrassment and fear. "The sole?" I try and keep my voice level._

 _"No, no. That looks like..." she bends down to look at it._

 _I stomp my foot on the ground, and act on impulse. Inside my mind, warning bells and alarms are ringing because I'm about to do the worst thing I possibly could._

 _"Yeah, that's right. Bend over for me," I say. The class lets out a collective 'ooooh' and Ms. Parks stands up with anger in her eyes._

 _"Office. Now. Take your things and leave, and don't come back until you're able to act like a proper human being," she snaps. I walk out the door like I don't have a care in the world, but I don't go to the office._

 _Instead, I decide to run home._

 _When I get there, Shelby is on the couch with Carl. They're really going at it, too. He has his head buried between her legs. I try and shuffle past as quietly as possible, but the door slams behind me and I freeze as both of them look up at me._

 _"Trying to check me out, faggot? I thought you were 'gay,'" Shelby snaps. I wince at her tone._

 _"N-no. I was just walking through. I didn't expect you guys to be-"_

 _"I don't want to hear it! Stay in your room, and don't come out until school tomorrow. That oughta teach you," Carl shouts. I wince again and run to my room, trying to keep myself from having a panic attack._

 _Once behind the door, I lock it and put a chair beneath the handle. I sit in the corner, sobbing and shaking and trying to just_ _ **breathe**_ _goddammit. I can feel blood rushing to my head as I claw at the ground and try and think of a grounding technique._

 _Needless to say, none co e to mind._

 _And twenty minutes later, Shelby and Carl are there._

 **So, what'd you think? Make sure to comment my mistakes, I'm sure there's some, and just...**

 **don't be like Shelby and Carl. They suck.**

 **Love you all! Byeee 3**


	27. 25 - Shiro

[Shiro]

I'm lying on my bed, one arm resting behind my head and one across chest, holding my phone. My shirt rides up to expose the lower part of my torso, allowing a strip of cool air to brush over it. Or, it would. But Adam's head is currently residing on it. His hair tickles me slightly, causing me to let out a breathy laugh whenever Adam moves.

"Shiro," Adam murmurs. I look at him, craning my neck so I can see him.

"Yeah?"

"I...thanks. For everything. Really, I-it means a lot." He turns on his side, pressing his ear to my stomach, and places an arm under me.

"Of course, babe. I want you to be happy. That's all I've wanted for a long time," I say, running my fingers through his pretty brown hair.

"I mean, how long have we been together?" I add with a small laugh.

"Like three and a half years. The _best_ three and a half years,"

I sit up, slowly as not to make Adam's head slam onto my lap. He looks up at me with his forest green eyes, his perfect smile. I love looking at him. I could do it all day. But, one must talk to other humans to be considered "functional."

"You were a mess when you tried to ask me out," he continues.

"C'mon, I wasn't that bad!" I laugh.

Adam sits up and fixes me with a serious look. "Takashi, babe. You had _index cards_ with a script written out. A script that _I_ didn't have. You were a bit more than a mess,"

"Well...you said yes. Also, could you blame me? You were the cutest, handsomest, hottest guy in the school and I was a lowly freshman. I had _braces,_ Adam. Plus, a lot of unchecked anxiety. It's your fault for being so attractive, honestly,"

Adam laughs. "Well, thank the lord you _did_ have a script. It gave you some of your...innocent charm. Well, until I got to know you and realized how hot you were. You know, since you _insisted_ on wearing patterned sweater vests until the very end of sophomore year. God, you were such a little nerd. But, I saw you over the summer when you were in a swimsuit and I have to say, you were a _snacc_ ™ and you only got better,"

As he speaks, my face grows more and more red. It goes from a delightful pink, to an embarrassed red, to a flustered magenta. "Th-thanks," I mumble out, giggling breathily. My face falls when I remember that he won't think that now, not after he sees all my new scars. It's hideous.

Adam's gaze softens. "Hey," he says gently. I look at him and force a smile, though that's never worked on him. "You know I've seen them, right?"

I freeze, my breath catching. "Y-you have?" I squeak. I feel anxiety flare up in my chest, and I feel like I'm about to cry or something. I _really_ don't want to cry.

Adam nods and turns so he's sitting in my lap, rather than next to me. "Yeah, the day you got out of the hospital. Remember? And a couple nights ago when we _finally_ got to have sex for the first time since you got out of the hospital. And I know you've stopped. You shouldn't feel self conscious. You should feel proud for overcoming that. And until you do, I'll be proud twice as much for you;. Okay?"

I shudder out a breath, taking a shaky inhale. "Mmhmm," I hum out, higher pitched than usual. I reach a hand out and trace along the angles of the face of the handsome boy in front of me. His mouth tugs up into a smile.

"Takashi," he whispers, "can you tell me a story?"

My heart leaps into my chest at this. I lie back, resting my head in the pillows. Adam moves so he's cuddling me, using me as a body pillow. I wrap an arm around him. I already know what I want to tell him. 

[Flashback (four years ago)]

 _Monday. The first day of the first semester of the first year of high school. Garrison High, one of the better schools in the district, is a large, scary looking building. I take a small step towards the entrance, exhaling and feeling my worries rear up inside my mind. Clenching my fists at my side, I prepare for a day of name corrections, awkward games, and syllabi._

 _I check the schedule I'd tucked into my uniform pocket before I left. My first class is Honors Chem II. I've been moved up a year in my science and math classes due to my remarkable abilities in those areas. Room G280, with Mr. Iverson. He's also my homeroom, so head there first regardless._

 _I take quick steps and pay attention to the spacing of my feet, moving to side when I see another pair of uniform shoes nearing mine. I only glance up to look at the room numbers and make sure I'm going to the right place. After a few minutes, I walk by the Art Club showcase winners. A beautiful mural of a woman being held up by golden silhouettes, entitled "Behind The Strong" catches my eye. I stare at it as I walk by, not noticing that I'm heading toward someone else._

 _In a flash, I've knocked someone onto the ground. I stare in shock, and see a pair of forest green orbs staring back at me. Alarm laces the face of the boy I've run into. He seems surprised, but not hurt._

 _"Uh..um...I...I-I'm sorry," I mumble. I stiffly stick out a hand to help him up, feeling my face heat up a little. He laughs, and it's a cute little chuckle._

 _Taking my hand, He swings himself up. "It's no problem, man. I get it," he says with a smile. "You're a freshman, right? Where're you going?"_

 _I fumble with my schedule, sticking it out and narrowly avoiding punching him in the stomach in my hurried motions. "Iverson,"_

 _He nods. Then, looking over my schedule, his expression goes from confused to impressed very quickly. "Whoa! Tenth grade Chem and math? Are you some sort of prodigy?"_

 _I blush and scratch my neck with a shrug. "Um...not really. I'm just good at math, I guess," I laugh lightly._

 _"Pfft. Lucky. I'm in your math class, somehow. I suck, though, so I'm gonna need you to take notes for me,"_

 _I try and think of something to say, something that isn't just "sure" or "yeah." It doesn't really work. "Uh..yeah, no, totally,"_

 _He smiles. My stomach flips a little at the sight. "I'm Adam." He stick out a hand for me to shake. He grips my hand firmly, making me feel a bit bad for knocking him down. He's so nice about it._

 _"I'm Takashi Shirogane, but my friend calls me Shiro," I respond. I realize my mistake when Adam makes a face._

 _"Your...friend? Singular? As in, only one friend?"_

 _I nod sheepishly. "Um..yeah. His name's Curtis," I say. Curtis has been my only friend since we were little. He's always going out for sports teams and making new friends, but he kept me around for some reason._

 _Adam snickers. "Cool, coI lie ol. Cool. Um...how do you only have_ one _friend?"_

 _I blush and look at the ground. "I dunno," I mumble. Adam laughs again._

 _"Well, Takashi Shirogane, I'll introduce you to some of my friends. Maybe help you make a few more,"_

 _"O-okay,"_

 _"Well, I gotta go. Bye, Takashi!" Adam waves farewell, and disappears around the corner. I wave slowly, turning around and continuing on my way._

 _Flash forward a few months, and I've developed a crush the size of an elephant on the older boy. I lie on my bed, ranting to Curtis about this older boy who's stolen my heart._

 _"-and he has this stupid smile, which I hate. 'Cause it makes my knees feel like jelly when he does it. Then, he laughs a lot even if he's stressed, and that's not fair. 'Cause his laugh is just a little cute chuckle and he somehow manages to have a cute face, even when it's really red,"_

 _Curtis chuckles from the floor. "You've got it bad,"_

 _"No, I don't!"_

I'm about to continue, but Adam lets out a snore from beside me. I smile, closing my eyes and relaxing in his arms.

The arms of the man I love.

 **So, it's been like a few months. Considering some of the time gaps I've had people wait on other sites, I'd say this is pretty good. Thanks for being patient, and I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Uhhhhh...love you all, and I promise I have something good coming! Toodles 3**


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